


I Am Terrified

by Captaindick



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Stiles, Angst, BAMF Stiles, Canon-Typical Violence, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Future Fic, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, In a way, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oblivious Derek, Oblivious Stiles, eventually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-02
Updated: 2013-06-05
Packaged: 2017-12-10 05:50:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 46,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/782528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captaindick/pseuds/Captaindick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are alphas, there are kanimas, there are deaths. They lose friends and loved ones. So no one blames Derek for leaving. They don’t like it, but they understand. Stiles becomes the unofficial alpha after that and when Derek returns he doesn’t have a place in the pack anymore. Stiles makes space for him. Stiles makes it so he stays this time even if what he’s doing is destroying him from the inside.<br/>Or the one where everyone thinks they’re dating, but that’s not what’s happening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you bear through the beginning it gets better. Kind of.  
> Jackson and Erica are still there at the beginning but they'll be out of the picture by the end of the prologue.
> 
> A lot of deaths in the prologue. Nothing too graphic.  
> Not betaed.

### Prologue

It's the first time Stiles sees Derek after summer break. It's actually the first time he gets to know that there are crazy-ass werewolves in town, aiming for the pack and that Erica and Boyd did not just run away. And all Stiles gets in response to his "I missed you," which was sincere and actually kind of a surprise for Stiles himself; is a mumbled "fuck" and a shove to the wall as an alpha attacks them.  
  
The other pack fights dirty and Derek and his band of misfits, that is seriously lacking in power and people, look like newborn pups compared to them. Stiles doesn't even try to fight back, he runs like Derek yelled at him before getting a hit to the head defending him. Even running away Stiles registers the number of people... weres fighting on their side, trying to recall if he knows them but both girls, getting worse and worse at their defense when the twins advance on them, aren't someone he knows.  
  
Derek is an idiot for renting this stupid spacious apartment where Stiles can't do anything to help with his human powers. He can't magic his jeep to fly and his baby still hasn't recovered from the last time she collided with a supernatural being. But there's Wolfsbane in it and he's stumbling down the stairs, almost face planting a couple of times, before he collides with a warm solid wall that grabs him by his neck and forearm and slams him into an actual wall, leaving the boy scrambling against the concrete and gasping for air.  
  
The guy lets his grip get a little less brutal and grins up at Stiles. Even looking at him from above isn't making the crazy smile less intimidating. Partially because the reason Stiles is looking from this angle is the fact his feet are dangling above the floor, fruitlessly trying to get purchaise against it. The guy looks around Peter or Chris Argent's age. And his smile is very much like the one Peter gets when he's thinking of something. And because Stiles is sure that the only thing in Peter's brain is planning murders... Well, let's say Stiles is fucked. The man leans in, breathing in as if he's smelling Stiles and gee he isn't sure if it's just super creepy, or scary too, because who knows what rabid weres eat.  
  
He squeezes his eyelids shut tightly and wishes, wishes with all his might for the wolfsbane in his car to materialize in his hands. He's not even sure if the magic shit works with anything but mountain ash, he didn't want to think of werewolves, kanimas and magic when it was clear that everything was finally over. Why did he have to be so wrong?  
  
There's a roar of pain and the dude looks up, smirking. So, obviously, it wasn't one of his pack. Stiles tries to get him in the balls, because against werewolves everything is fair game, but he gets slammed against the wall once again, more force behind it this time and Stiles thought that would be impossible. Shit, it's his fate to die at the hand of an old geezer, huh?  
  
He doesn't get to explore that thought when Scott barrels into the man, sending the three of them flying. Everything hurts and the man's claws scrape at the places he was holding before he turns and claws at Scott. Stiles gets up on shaky legs but he has no time for panic, no time to freak out and have a pity party. He falls down two more times before he gets to the jeep and fishes for the tiny bags he had under the front seat. He's rushing back, out of breath, sweaty and bruised, only to find that the alphas left. He slides down a wall, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths, trying to calm his heart down. But Stiles doesn't let himself rest for long. He scrambles up and looks around at the bloody mess that Derek's apartment became. Some bloody rugs look like intestines and he really hopes they're just rugs. There's groaning and whining over broken limbs and gashes so deep they don't look like they're healing at all. Isaac's head looks split open, but the wound at his side looks even worse, if that's possible, Scott is crawling-limping closer to Isaac, all bloody himself, clutching his broken arm, one of the girls he doesn't know yet, is hugging her knees, shivering in a corner so she's pretty much a gory bloody pile on the floor, and then there's Derek and that other woman. And Derek looks like he was mauled by lions, which is not so far from the truth, but he's still finding the power to hold up the woman's head above the ground in an embrace of sorts, trying not to touch her wounds. She strokes a hand through his hair, just making them more of a bloody mess, but instead of letting her go or at least staring at her accusingly for the touch, Derek leans down and hides his face against her neck, letting her hand wander to his neck, letting her clutch at his ripped shirt. Well, that's a development. Stiles feels a pang of jealousy and then realizes it and shakes his head to get the thought out. Only it makes him dizzy and nauseous so he has to slide back down to the floor. Even if his injuries aren't as bad, he probably got a concussion. He's trying not to think too hard about his side aching and just hopes none of his ribs are cracked.  
  
Once his vision isn't blurry or making the world spin Stiles looks up again which brings him back to Derek. And the she-wolf full on hugging him now. If they weren't both covered in deep open wounds this would get even more inappropriate. Stiles can't help but wonder how a couple of months just made Derek into someone who hugged and did emotions instead of the brick-wall of doom he used to be. And the next thought is even worse, because he should've been the one to break his defenses. Ok, obviously, it takes a pair of boobs to fix someone. Fine. And this is not what he should be thinking about right now for god's sake!  
  
"So what was _that_ all about?"  
  
***  
  
They release Boyd as a mocking, to prove they don't need to hold him captive to win. But they still have Erica and they have to get her back. Whatever it takes. Better if it won't take that much and won't end in too much bloodshed but spilled blood at a werewolf meeting was practically a given these days.  
  
Jackson joins them when they go in for Erica. When the alphas finally decide to leave, Derek's pack almost on the verge of death again, Jackson is missing and Erica's corpse cut in half is in the next room, was waiting for them there from the start.  
  
"Well at least we got rid of Jackson," huffs Stiles and gets everyone to measure him with a judgmental stare. Great.  
  
"We have to save him." Scott, of course. Sometimes Stiles wishes his best friend didn't have a hero complex and was a coward who'd just leave it at that. Wouldn't feel responsible for everyone he knows, but then it wouldn't be Scott. And Stiles isn't sure he'd be able to be friends with him if he wasn't this noble airheaded dork.  
  
There's a groan from Derek as his girlfriend, yeah she's his girlfriend, pulls a piece of a wooden railing out of him.  
  
"They wanted the kanima and I'm guessing they have a way to turn him back."  
  
"It won't be pretty." guesses Stiles and gets a nod in response.  
  
"Before it happens, before they get to damage him too much, we need to-" Derek is getting up with the help of his girlfriend, but it's still hard for him and he cringes and takes a sharp intake of breath, "Save him."  
  
"Of course. Now everyone wants to be Batman." mumbles Stiles, absent-mindedly licking and biting at his split lip.  
  
***  
  
The alphas get their kanima. Not the way they expected to, not the way anyone thought and dreaded it would happen. It's worse in a way, but then again Jackson's alive, he's still a werewolf and he didn't even break down completely after their physical and psychological tortures. Isn't that nice.  
  
Stiles doesn't even remember getting home, just Scott's gentle voice and his warm hands guiding him. There's another kanima, it wasn't like Jackson: it had its own will, it swooped in and after effortlessly paralyzing two werewolves, one alpha and one of Derek's betas, it ran for Stiles. It showed him it's face but it wasn't even necessary, he knew the eyes. Gerard.  
  
Before the monster could do anything three alphas jumped it, trying to force it down, but Stiles just went numb. He was paralyzed without the need for any venom. He was frozen to the spot and only remembers Isaac pulling him away from the fight like some out of body experience. There're alphas and the kanima, trying to overpower each other, there's more alphas and Derek and Boyd, and the two werewolf girls, one of them dragged away, motionless from the venom, and, oh, there's Scott, dragging Jackson and Isaac to Stiles. Isaac is paralyzed but he growls and gasps as if he can help. The usually cocky jock is just as gone as Stiles is, if him sitting close, shoulder to shoulder with Stiles, and not flinching away, is any indication. They both look at the fights unfurling in front of them, impassive, watching Gerard gut the female alpha, Kali, Stiles remembers distractedly. It seems to go on for hours, or seconds, time is weird right now, but there's an inhuman screech as the kanima goes down, pierced with its own ripped of hand. Disgusting. Stiles knows from that time with Jackson that it won't kill it, but killing it never was the alphas' goal. Derek and the others are stupid enough to keep fighting instead of letting the alphas leave now that they have what they want. But while Stiles is thinking of telling them to stop, to reason with them, it's too late and Derek's girlfriend is being ripped apart right in front of their eyes. Well, that does it. Derek goes feral, becomes an easy target - he's down in seconds. Nobody else dares to move.  
  
Once Stiles is sure Scott is far enough from his house to not hear him even with werewolf hearing, he climbs down from the bed, dragging the blanket with him, and has the most intense panic attack he's had in years after his mother died.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is IAMX's ''I am Terrified''


	2. Loneliness Is The Key to Break That Spell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Why are you helping?”_   
> _“Because I’m pack, Stiles.”_   
> _“No, you’re not.”_   
> _“Then because I want to be.”_
> 
>  
> 
> Or the one where Stiles spends hours talking to Derek but Derek never says anything in responce.  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still unbetaed. Still no direct Sterek interactions.  
> (Also I don't remember what the new werewolf girl's name was supposed to be so I used Cora because it sounded familiar. She'll be gone out of the picture soon anyway.)

The alphas leave first. Jackson is second. He's broken and looks like a walking zombie. Stiles finds out from Lydia, when she comes to his house and cries into his tshirt. She says she understands why he would leave, but it doesn't mean she's ok just because she has a logical explanation. Stiles lets her cry her heart out and wonders if Boyd will be the next one to leave this town and their dysfunctional not pack.  


It shouldn't be a surprise when it's Derek who disappears, but it is. They wouldn't even realize if it wasn't for his betas. There's no note, no nothing. Derek just left, without saying a word. Stiles wants to blame him but can't bring himself to. One more person he loved died, he probably thinks it's his fault too. He understands, they all understand his reasonings. Doesn't mean they're ok with it.  


***

Stiles’ dad doesn’t even bother asking him about his day anymore. Sometimes he gets this look on his face, like he wants to say something, but they both know Stiles will lie and he just busies himself with what he was doing. It’s easier – not explaining bruises and coming home late, even if this stopped once the alphas left, but Stiles isn’t optimistic about it – soon enough another supernatural entity will find out about them and decide it’s life mission is killing a bunch of high schoolers; but sometimes he wishes his dad would still trust him enough to talk to him and wouldn’t take day shifts just to avoid meeting in the house. He probably thinks Stiles has to do with all the crazy shit happening in Beacon Hills. He’s right, but only technically. He just doesn’t want to be the one to catch his own son red-handed and bring him in for interrogation about another murder. But the sheriff’s safer that way and in the end it’s all that matters. Some days Stiles dreams of a day he could tell his father the truth and have him look at him without a guarded expression, radiating sadness and guilt.  


The not pack is falling apart even more than usual: Boyd is still not over Erica’s death, no surprise here, the werewolf girl, Cora, is still hiding something from them, but Isaac is following her like he used to follow Scott, which, in turn, makes Scott even more miserable than he already was with Allison not talking to him. Even Stiles isn’t really on board with talking with everyone and making them talk to each other. He mostly spends his time with Lydia now – she lost all pretenses, because she stopped being popular a while ago, but she’s still fashionable, classy, not hiding anymore that she’s smart, and Stiles can see how people are still in awe of her, secretly worshiping her. He didn’t expect less from his strawberry blonde queen.  


One day Danny comes up to him in the cafeteria, while he’s still alone; for some reason the not pack still uses one table, even if nobody talks and even if they do the conversation dies quickly.  


“Jackson was wrong.” Danny sits next to him and cocks an eyebrow at Stiles’ gobsmacked expression. “You still haven’t screwed up and I got tired of waiting. Jackson told me everything. I know about who he is, who they are,” Danny nods in the direction of Isaac and Cora, Scott following them sullenly. “I want in.”  


There’s no such thing as “in” but Stiles spends time with Danny, creating a site for werewolves with tips and guidelines. It’s not as blunt and ironic as Stiles would want it, but they do have to maintain some kind of secrecy, even if Danny made them untraceable. Danny catches on quickly and soon is figuring stuff out on his own, just asking Stiles for confirmation. One day when they’re busy with the site, mostly fooling around because it was a long day and they could take a break whenever they wanted, Danny asks, just as he does with every werewolf question:  


“So, Miguel. Not your cousin.”  


“Yeah, that was Derek, you know, the alph-” Stiles bites his tongue and looks up guiltily. The other boy just smiles at him, the smile making Stiles weak, that was definitely some superpower, Stiles was certain.  


“If you think you were subtle about your lie I’d think again.” Stiles grins and scratches the back of his head, “Where is he now anyway? I’m not trustworthy enough to meet him yet?”  


Stiles kind of wishes that was it.  


***  


When, inevitably, a corpse is found in the forest, the hunters make it their duty to restore justice and destroy the ones responsible. The not pack, divided and vulnerable, is declared public enemy number one, but this goes unsaid. Stiles finds out about it from Lydia, who was warned by Allison, and he wonders if now that Derek isn’t with them, she wants to come back. He thinks that the crazy outburst, as justified as it was, was… well, crazy. And that she wasn’t right to try and kill everyone. But they need all the help they can get and it worked for them before. He doesn’t tell Scott, because he doesn’t want to get his hopes up, but he waits for Allison after class. The girl looks torn and he tries not to pressure her, but he can’t stop talking when he’s nervous, and he’s nervous, so it ends with Allison telling him she can’t do it and he shouldn’t expect anything.  


“Just-” Stiles turns back and Allison is fiddling with the strap of her bag, looking at the floor. “Be careful.”  


She turns around and Stiles watches her go down the corridor, walking away himself once he realizes he’s zoned out and stood in the middle of the corridor longer than would be normal.  


The week after this is eerily quiet and Stiles is starting to question if it would be wrong to ask Boyd to maul a small woodland creature just for the sake of something happening to trigger the hunters so that he has something to do and would stop jumping and startling at any noise and seeing shapes following him in the shadows. When there’s a call from a number he doesn’t recognize, he contemplates not picking up, but then there’s a chance that it might be Derek, and as bad a leader as he turned out to be, they need him. Also Stiles thinks of the possibility of hunters, trapping his friends, or trying to lure him out, because hunters aren’t above beating the crap out of perfectly human kids, and he almost wants to press “ignore” but that’s not how he functions, so he’s bringing the phone to his ear only to hear an exasperated “Took you long enough.”  


“Peter?” this just can’t be right. “When did you come back?” Stiles doesn’t say I hoped you died, and isn’t sure if it’s some moral code or his survival skills kicking in for once. “Where the hell did you get my number? Do you know that’s creepy as hell? I’m hanging up now and you have five seconds to change my mind.”  


There’s chuckling and Stiles is counting down his five seconds. There actually might be an emergency and if something happened and he ignored it just because he didn’t want to listen to Peter, he’s going to blame himself for the rest of his life.  


“Stiles, Stiles. Is that any way to treat your elders? I thought we had an understanding, me and you. You’re a smart-” Stiles hangs up. The phone lights up again with an incoming call, but this time Stiles presses ignore without hesitating. Less than a minute later there’s a text message:  


**Just wanted to tell you Isaac is hurt and we’re locked out in your school by hunters. Bring wolfsbane, the boy is getting worse by the second.**  


Stiles shuts down his laptop and gets up from his chair, pulling on a hoodie. If this is true he can’t waste a second, but he’s not an idiot. Stiles is dialing Isaac’s number and doesn’t have to wait long before the boy picks up. Only it’s “Peter.”  


“I’m hurt, Stiles. Don’t you trust me? After all that we’ve been through?”  


“Pass me Isaac.” Even if there are no hunters Stiles doesn’t put it past Peter to be the one who poisoned Isaac. Or to steal his phone to lure Stiles out. Maybe he became an alpha while he was away and needs to expand his pack? He didn’t bite the teen in the past, when he said he didn’t want it, but who’s to say he won’t do it now?  


The werewolf makes a hurt comment and then there’s Isaac’s voice. Stiles really hoped he was right about Peter just stealing the teen’s phone.  


“Stiles, we’re- really- here.” He sounds pained and out of breath but this still leaves an option of Peter being the one who did it to him. And because of the enhanced hearing he can’t even ask Isaac to hint to him if it’s true or not.  


“Why did you call me?”  


There’s silence and fumbling and the phone is back in Peter’s hands.  


“Because, Stiles, I thought you were sensible enough to get here before we got killed and not get killed in the process yourself. Would you hurry?”  


Stiles curses and really hopes this isn’t a trap.  


“Where exactly are you?”  


“The guidance council office.” Stiles locks the door and hops into the jeep, trying to calculate the time he needs to get there and to make everything work.  


“Ok, I’ll be there in about fifteen minutes. I need you to be outside by the lacrosse field when I’ll get there. If you can make it without the hunters realizing you’re out – it would be perfect, but it’ll be fine either way. Also, while you’re at it, steal two sophomore student files. Any two files will do.”  


Peter hums and doesn’t ask to explain and that’s something Stiles is thankful for. He hangs up and tries not to speed too much. He contemplates calling Scott but decides against it. With his hero complex, Scott will be at the school before Stiles even gets there and can ruin everything. He’ll call him once he has Isaac with him.  


Stiles praises every deity there is for his car. Because the month he had to go without her after he ran off on his dad trying to talk to him about their relationship and what was going on; was the worst and most dangerous time of his life. The alphas were in town at the time and when his phone started ringing, he couldn’t ignore it, because Derek wouldn’t call if it wasn’t serious. So he ran off on his dad without as much as saying “sorry” and drove off. When he returned home bruised and beaten up, without an explanation that would satisfy his dad, his keys were confiscated. A month later, when he still showed up at crime scenes and sported new scars and bruises even easier than when he drove towards danger himself, he found his keys in his room, on the table. Dad stopped asking him questions after that.  


Stiles squeezes the stirring wheel and wills himself to stop thinking about it. It’s not like he can tell him. Not now. Not ever, says a tiny voice in the back of his head and he doesn’t want to agree with it, but if he wants his dad out of danger, that’s the way it’ll be.  


Five minutes away from the school, Stiles gets his phone out, and violating all these rules, isn’t that just perfect for not thinking about his dad, the sheriff, and calls the police department. It’s Joe, who picks up, and Stiles tries to make his voice deeper and talk at a slower pace than he usually does.  


“There’s a disturbance at Beacon Hills High. I saw someone break into the school.”  


“I will need your name and-”  


Stiles hangs up and presses the gas pedal, going past the speed limit. If everything goes right, and when did that ever happen to him, but he can hope, he’ll pick up Isaac and the police will be there right in time to catch the hunters, while Stiles and Isaac use the other road to get to Deaton’s.  


The wrong starts with the school’s guidance counselor, miss Morell, being there with Isaac and Peter. Isaac can’t stop throwing up black goo and the woman looks as unphased by this as Peter does. Then Peter is getting in the car, carrying Isaac in, and Morell squishes inside as well. Stiles’ eyes are bugging out but no one pays attention to his spluttering and flailing.  


Peter throws two files to the back of the car and demands: “The wolfsbane.”  


“I- I don’t have it! Where am I supposed to get it? We’re going to Deaton.” Stiles spent his last dried petals of the flower on the alphas, while they were still in town. Never had any since.  


Peter rolls his eyes reminding Stiles of Derek, he distantly wonders if it’s a werewolf thing or a Hale thing. The older man then looks at him expectantly and Stiles drives away, trying not to think too much about the guidance counselor dressed in leather, Isaac, still throwing up and sobbing from the power of it, nor Peter, flashing a grin at miss Morell.  


“Honey…” he starts, and she smiles just as sweetly.  


“No.”  


“Oh come on, I misjudged him. He was supposed to be the smart one. You owe me too, remember?”  


“From what I remember, it was the other way around.”  


This is bizarre and Stiles should’ve known she was mixed up in all of this too.  


“Werewolf?” he asks, not taking his eyes off the road.  


Both Peter and the woman scoff.  


“Stiles, I’m seriously rethinking calling you for this.”  


“I can always kick you out.”  


Peter smirks and looks down at his now clawed hand, making Stiles grind his teeth and hope that he did have the stupid wolfsbane so he could stuff it down the man’s throat. Hey, maybe he can do this with the mountain ash, he carries this shit around all the time.  


The rest of the ride is something out of a bizarre comedy and Stiles should stop thinking how to call this sitcom; Morell and Peter keep half-flirting and half-threatening each other while Isaac can’t stop neither the sobs, nor the puking and someone will have to pay for the damage to his car.  


***  


Peter carries Isaac inside and Morell stops Stiles from following, commanding him to listen to what the police will be able to do with the hunters. It’s not that Stiles is scared of her. Ok, maybe he is. But when people ask for his help, he’d really love for them to not threaten him in the meantime. The woman sashays inside the clinic, leaving Stiles outside, in his jeep. He sends a text to Scott and isn’t surprised not to get an answer, his friend is probably sleeping and Stiles wasn’t killed yet, so he doesn’t push it.  


When his three passengers walk out, Isaac still looking like death, but at least the puking stopped, they just climb inside the car, without asking for permission. Except for Morell.  


“I’ll realize the files are missing within the week and report to the police. Bye.” The “Bye” is flirty again and is addressed at Peter, who grins at her and stares at her ass as she’s walking away.  


“What the?”  


“Get us to Derek’s apartment.” Stiles pulls a face but starts the engine. Isaac falls asleep on the back seat and Peter doesn’t say a word. Maintaining silence is hard but Stiles doesn’t even know where to start with the questions. But it’s not like he can stay with them all night asking questions, so he has to start now. He doesn’t want his dad to come home to see he’s left again.  


“The police caught them. They didn’t have any guns on them so I assume they hid them in the school. They apparently were young enough to pass for college students so they lied about stealing a trophy that was rightfully theirs, blah-blah. They’ll be out tomorrow.” He shared some information, now it’s Peter’s turn. “What were you doing there? Why were they after you and what’s with miss Morell?”  


Peter silently drops a bag on Stiles’ lap.  


“So you won’t say you don’t have wolfsbane next time. I even threw in the fun kind. But I’m not telling you which one is it.” Stiles sneaks a peek inside, taking his eyes off the road for a second, it’s not like there’s busy traffic in the middle of the night. There’s a bunch of pouches, each with a scribbled name in Latin and a drawing of a flower, as far as he can tell.  


“You didn’t answer.”  


“And you didn’t say thank you. Does it make us even?”  


“Isaac will tell Scott anyway. Might as well try and make yourself look good by sharing the information. And I’m still not over you ditching us when the alphas came into town.”  


“Aw, Stiles, I was helping you. When did you get so grumpy?”  


“How was leaving us – helping?”  


They’re almost at the apartment and Stiles isn’t anywhere near getting anything.  


“Have you heard of any animal attacks near Beacon Hills? Any paralyzing substances being used on people? The police department would be very busy if they needed to give counseling to others about it.”  


Stiles googled the crap out of it. Anything even remotely reminding the kanima, he even made Danny hack into the files of the BHPD. Nothing. But it could be a coincidence. The alpha pack might just be taking their time before attacking someone. Peter takes his silence as a “no” it is.  


“Thought so. Because me and… miss Morell,” he laughs, saying her name and Stiles wonders, if it’s her real name, “Took care of it, Stiles.”  


“And how exactly were the two of you able to defeat an alpha pack and a kanima when our whole pack couldn’t?”  


Peter smirks: “You could’ve been part of it, Stiles. You chose to turn me down so don’t start complaining now.”  


He understands he won’t get any direct answers, maybe no answers at all, but he tries once more.  


“Why were you at the school?”  


“Because we were running away and had to hide somewhere.” Peter sounds like he thinks Stiles is an idiot, but how is he to know it’s the truth and wasn’t all Peter’s plan for something horrible?  


“And why were the hunters after you?”  


There’s silence and Stiles practically feels the eye roll.  


“Because we are abominations that should be destroyed for the sake of humanity.”  


“Right, right…”  


They park down at Derek’s apartment, and Stiles wonders if they should still be calling it that when they’re not even sure Derek will come back. Peter shakes Isaac awake and helps him get out of the jeep. Before they disappear inside, Stiles rushes after them. He can spare some more time since he’s already out of the house anyway.  


Stiles catches up and is there by Isaac’s other side, sliding a hand along his back to help him walk up the stairs.  


“Isaac, what were you doing with Peter?”  


“I was at the depot when the hunters showed up. Peter distracted them so I could run away, but then they shot me and we had to hide.” He can’t be paranoid about everything and it’s hard not to trust Isaac, so Stiles makes a noise in acknowledgement.  


They help Isaac sit down and the boy instantly sprawls on the couch letting his long limbs hang of it and sweep the floor. Stiles takes a look around, he hasn’t been here since Derek left. He never even went further than the first floor and even here he only used to run away from alphas or sit and wait for the meeting to be over. Oh right, he used the bathroom once so he knows where that is.  


Isaac is obviously exhausted from everything that happened to him and Stiles trails after Peter into the kitchen. The man is humming and stirring something in a pot that smells like coffee. Stiles leans against the counter and stares at his face until Peter sighs and lifts his eyes from whatever it is he’s making, because Stiles’ brain refuses to think of Peter being capable of brewing something other than weird poisonous potions.  


“What.” It doesn’t sound like a question but Stiles will make do with what he’s got.  


“Why are you helping?” Peter raises an eyebrow and with a chuckle goes back to brewing his coffee-smelling poison.  


“Because I’m pack, Stiles.”  


“No, you’re not.” The answer comes naturally and makes Stiles startle at his own certainty.  


“Then because I want to be.”  


“After everything you’ve done?”  


“Oh god, not that again.” Peter switches off the stove and takes his time to rummage through cupboards to get out a mug and a percolator and pour his brew inside. He adds sugar and then decides against using milk after getting a whiff of it after opening the fridge. Stiles watches as Peter goes back to the couch where Isaac is sprawled half asleep and sees him hand the boy what probably is actual real coffee.  


Peter returns to the kitchen that’s separated from the rest of the room by a counter that probably also serves as a table, because there isn’t one anywhere Stiles can see, leaning against a wall and even as he talks, keeps his eyes trained on Isaac.  


“I know people, well, not people. I know things about being a werewolf Derek doesn’t know. Didn’t know because he was a silly kid and didn’t listen, and then there was no one to listen to. I remember almost every book from our burned down library cover to cover. I know how to deal with things. You need me.”  


“Why are you talking to me?”  


“Because I thought you were the reasonable one and could talk the others into accepting me.”  


“I’m not a part of anything.” That makes Peter look at him, tilting his head and making an affronted sound.  


“You really think so?”  


“I don’t want to be part of it. I’m just human and I don’t owe you anything.”  


“You’re not _just_ human, Stiles. You are so much more than that.” Stiles pulls a face.  


“I need you to make Derek accept me into the pack when he returns.” Stiles can’t help the bitter laugh.  


“How do you know he’ll return?” the boy flails, eyes bugging out. He really needs to work on his brain to mouth filter. “So you what, will screw us over, attack innocent people and make me beg Derek to let you join, which won’t work by the way because Derek never listens to me, and then when he trusts you, you’ll what, kill him?”  


“He’ll be back.” Peter is smiling and screw him, Stiles slipped up, it’s not his fault. “I need your help. You know I wasn’t in my right mind when I killed Laura.”  


“You were perfectly fine when you mauled Lydia.”  


“Semantics.” There’s a sly smile on Peter’s face and Stiles won’t take it any more. He’s a bit worried about leaving Isaac with him but Isaac is big enough to take care of himself and he’s not Stiles’ responsibility.  


Stiles waves his goodbyes to the tall boy and almost runs out of the apartment and down the stairs to his car. Peter is hot on his heels.  


“I’ll drive back with you. We haven’t finished our talk.” Stiles wants to tell him to shove it but Peter is smiling and his canines are elongated and his eyes gleam an electric blue and who is he to say no when asked so nicely. He says as much and lets Peter sit shotgun.  


“You think you’re not involved,” Peter gets to business as soon as they start from the parking lot. “But you helped us today. And before that you were always there. Scott is your best friend, don’t tell me you won’t help him if he gets in danger.” And the gleam in Peter’s eyes doesn’t make him reassured that the danger won’t be coming from the man himself.  


“I’m not part of this.” Says Stiles stubbornly.  


“You think so.” Peter leans in close and sniffs, making Stiles jerk in his seat. “But to any supernatural creature, you’re part of the Beacon Hills pack. I’m surprised you weren’t attacked already. And the hunters? You know as well as me that they don’t care about collateral damage. About humans who betrayed their kind to help a monster. They see you with one of the pack, guess who’s getting kidnapped and interrogated?”  


The rest of the ride is spent in silence and Stiles doesn’t acknowledge Peter’s goodbyes, opening the door and going inside the relative safety of his house. He watches Peter walk down the street from behind a curtain before the man turns at a corner to get to the woods.  


When he’s lying in bed, almost asleep, Stiles remembers he never did get an answer about their guidance counselor/psychiatrist, and wonders if meeting Peter again is worth the information. It’s not even ten minutes since he fell asleep when Scott calls him, his voice panicked and frantic. Stiles curses and sleepily mumbles that Isaac’s at Derek’s and Scott hangs up. Probably went to check for himself. Good for them. Stiles falls asleep again surprisingly fast and doesn’t wake up until his dad is knocking on his door, back from the night shift, asking if Stiles is going to school today or if he has a free period and can sleep for a bit more.  


***  


Peter doesn’t stop his attempts. But he’s not going for Stiles this time. The betas are lonely and lost and instinct tells them they need someone to lead them. Stiles doesn’t realize he’s losing them until Peter drops by after school and Isaac, Boyd and Cora get into the car with him. Stiles tells himself he won’t get involved, that it’s not his place and not his problem. As soon as Scott walks out of the building Stiles pushes him towards the jeep and they follow Peter.  


It’s not stalking if the werewolf hearing lets them know Stiles is following them. Stiles recognizes the road as the one leading to the Hale house. He doesn’t even pretend, just parks the jeep next to Peter’s car, walking out to face Peter with Scott jumping out after him.  


“It’s nice that you decided to join our practice. Though it might be dangerous for you, Stiles. Maybe it’s better if you go. I’ll drive Scott home after we’re done.” Peter smirks and turns around as if that’s it and they’re done.  


“What’re you planning? They’re not your betas.”  


“I’m keeping them in shape for Derek, Stiles. Getting such treatment for all my help. If you were in my shoes you’d be offended right now.”  


There’s so much he could say right now. Stiles glares, jaw set.  


“Isaac, Boyd, let’s go. You can’t talk to him. He’s demented and you won’t know what hits you when he attacks.”  


“Ouch,” Peter’s not smiling any more even if his tone is still mocking and carefree. “They’re not your betas.”  


“But they’re not yours too.”  


“So let them decide, do they want to learn from a born werewolf who can teach them to control their instincts or from a kid who doesn’t know what he’s doing half the time.”  


Stiles looks at Isaac and Boyd and hates to see them hesitate. They’re not friends, not anywhere near that. And Stiles can see how Peter can be persuasive and twist his way around words. And he doesn’t even know if Derek will return, so who cares if his pack is stolen while he ran away to mope. It’s all his own fault. But he’s not doing it for Derek, or to defy Peter. He isn’t even doing it for himself. He wants his not really friends safe from whatever it is Peter is planning and he can’t let them walk into his trap.  


“I helped Scott.” It’s so pathetic, he knows, but then Scott steps up and Stiles feels his chest tighten with appreciation and gratefulness.  


“Yes. He did better than Derek. And saved me even when we didn’t know much about anything. While Peter was trying to make me kill with him on full moons.” Isaac is bought the moment Scott speaks, because, and Stiles is almost certain, there’s a bit of a crush there on Isaac’s side. Scott is too stupid to realize this but it doesn’t really matter. Boyd and Cora turn to look at each other and not ten minutes later Stiles is riding home in an overpacked jeep. Eat that, Peter!  


***  


Stiles has to get involved now. And he needs all the help he can get. So he calls Lydia and Danny and they soon join the werewolves in his living room. He promises better training sessions later and that he’ll let them frolic in the woods at night and that the humans will do the research part, which makes Lydia scoff and Danny pout. He can’t help but think that it only makes him more attractive and damn, why is Stiles surrounded by all these gorgeous people and never gets any action?  


With not much to do, a promise from Lydia to translate more of the bestiary they got from Allison’s psycho grandfather, Danny’s nod to Stiles’ plea to use his hacking skills to see what google was hiding from Stiles and if there were any legit werewolves visiting their site, because as of now they got a bunch of whack jobs, quite an impressive number of ordinary people interested in all this, but no one who really seemed to understand and know what this all was about (there was this one Anon, saying the best kind of wolfsbane was the milky white one, Danny tracked him to NY. When Stiles asked Deaton about it, the man chuckled and reassured him that it wasn’t best for killing weres, but got them high. Stiles stored that knowledge for better times). Scott leaves with the rest of the werewolves and Stiles heaves a sigh, falling on his bed, once they’re all gone. He’s not fit for this, he has no idea what to do, not that Derek did a better job, but Stiles could blame him. He can’t start scolding himself… Or maybe he can. The werewolves obviously don’t take him seriously if he can’t give them a whopping, and he has no idea why the majestic Lydia Martin and the perfect and lovable Danny decided to help him today.  


Stiles groans and covers his face with a pillow. Dad’ll be home soon. Today was the day shift so he’ll spend the night at home. Tomorrow Stiles needs to get to Deaton and do anything to get his help. Because he’s at a loss here.  


“Are you going to thank me or not?” Stiles jumps up, throwing the pillow at the voice out of instinct, scrambling up the bed. It’s Peter. In his bedroom. Peter. In his bedroom.  


“What the hell?!”  


The werewolf shakes his head rolling his eyes and detaches himself from the wall, throwing the pillow back at Stiles, who fumbles with it before grasping it and clutching close to himself.  


“I let you take control and made them believe following you was the right choice. I’m still expecting a thank you.” Peter sits down at the foot of the bed and Stiles feels his heart rate pick up, hating how scared the wolf makes him.  


“My dad will be home any minute.”  


“I’ll hear his car, don’t worry. We need to get you ready too so we should start as soon as possible.”  


“What? What do you-” Stiles gets up, at least not sharing a bed with the man makes him feel less trapped. He scolds himself for not having the wolfsbane pouches hidden everywhere in the house. And he should totally make a mountain ash line so no more werewolves would be able to use his window as an entrance. “You want me to think that all that you did was to help me gain their trust?”  


Peter shrugs.  


“I don’t believe you.”  


“And that’s why you’re the smart one. The kids looked at me like I hung the moon once I let them in on a couple of wolfy tricks.”  


“Tell me exactly why should I believe you?” the fact that Stiles is getting closer and closer to the door doesn’t go unnoticed but Peter lets it be.  


“I’m trying to gain your trust. You don’t have to believe me right away. I just want you to let me join the pack once you decide I’m trustworthy enough.” Stiles scoffs at that.  


“There is no pack.”  


“Maybe not now.”  


“Who’s miss Morell?” if he’s so trustworthy, answering shouldn’t be a problem. Stiles is shocked to hear an answer.  


“You know who Deaton is?”  


“A creepily-informed vet?”  


“You should ask him. She’s alike, but not even half as nice.”  


“You’re not making sense.”  


“You want every answer on a silver platter, don’t you, Stiles?” Peter is up and stalking towards Stiles. The boy valiantly tries not to step back and answer to the challenging stare.  


He knows how psychos function: one moment they could be all normal and fine, and the next they’re twisting a knife in your gut, or sharp claws for the matter. So Peter’s unreadable expression of calm doesn’t reassure Stiles in the least. Peter makes a sudden move and Stiles flinches, making the man chuckle. He holds out his hand, with a flash drive in it. Stiles hesitantly takes it from him and Peter’s by the window in a blink of an eye.  


“A little treat for you.”  


***  


Stiles spends the evening with his dad, cooking dinner, watching him read through files and reports, then, after his dad stops just glancing up at him, fazed by continuous silence, and outright stares, he gets up and plops down in front of the tv and sits there, changing channels without really watching anything, until his dad says he’s going to bed. Stiles wishes him a good night, but the sheriff doesn’t leave like he’d usually do. And Stiles hates that having his father in the same room makes him nervous and jittery.  


“You’re not in trouble, are you?” Stiles wants to laugh at that, but holds the reflex down.  


“Depends on how you define trouble.” That’s the usual answer to everything. He doesn’t like to lie and this is so obvious a deflection, but he can’t help it. He hears his dad walking up to the couch but doesn’t turn around.  


“Right now. Are you in danger right now, son?” And hell if he knows. Stiles shakes his head once, still not looking at his dad’s face. “You haven’t spent an evening with me in weeks…”  


This makes Stiles turn around. Was it really that long? He always makes the meals, but he runs up to his room with his food more often than not, and it’s not like he was avoiding his dad, but looking at his pained betrayed expression was just too much sometimes.  


“I’m sorry dad. I haven’t noticed. How about we make something special tomorrow?” the sheriff looks doubtful and hell, he just wanted to protect him, how did this happen? “I’ll even throw some meat in there for you. The juicy unhealthy kind.” He winks overexageratedly.  


“You really are in trouble, aren’t you?”  


“What? No!” Stiles jumps up from the couch and when did his dad become so small? Stiles is still growing and it’s not like he’s reached Isaac’s height but he never realized his almighty dad was this small. It was one thing when he was drinking, but he was aging and wasn’t this a punch to the gut.  


“Can I help you? I can help.”  


Stiles buries his face in his hands, dragging them up and pulling at his hair.  


“There’s nothing to help, dad!” he wasn’t going to shout. He doesn’t want to shout. “I’m fine! There’s nothing wrong!” and then he’s running up the stairs and slamming his door shut. Stiles slides down, back to the door, hands flexing at his sides and face buried against his knees. When did he screw it all up? Was it when the alphas came to town? Or when Scott got turned? Or even earlier, when he killed his mom and left his dad no option but to take care of him?  


He hates how easy it became to come back to the old days where he couldn’t control the panic attacks.  


***  


He’s still nowhere calm enough to see what kind of virus or trick Peter gave him, but he was avoiding looking at it all evening and look where it got him.  


There are text files and pdf files with scanned pages, there are some pictures and a video. And Stiles promises himself he won’t get too excited and won’t trust any of the information too easily, because it comes from Peter, but he can’t control the excitement bubbling inside him from getting it.  


Stiles opens the video first and it looks like it was taken with a phone: the video is shaky and too dark and at first Stiles doesn’t see anything, but then there are red eyes looking right at him from the darkness and he starts seeing a shape, now that he knows where to look. Only he doesn’t have enough time because one second the burning eyes are far away, and the next they’re rushing at the one filming it with a supernatural speed. The camera falls to the ground, there’s screaming and noises Stiles wishes he never has a chance to hear in real life. Then the noises change and if Stiles had to guess, he’d say that’s a body being dragged. He doesn’t like it that he can specify such kind of sounds. It’s followed by splashing and there must be water there, more splashing and then all the sounds stop and the video cuts off. This can’t be the one from their victim. As far as Stiles knows there was no phone found near the body. The hunters couldn’t have found it, because how would Peter get it from them (though he probably shouldn’t underestimate Peter. Maybe he was scheming something and was fooling the hunters just as easily as he was doing with Stiles. It only took a flash drive in the end). Stiles rewatches the video a couple of times and pauses it at places to have a better look at the creature with the red eyes. It can be a wolf, the really large alpha kind, but it did drag the victim into the water if Stiles guessed right, so he tries to see more in the black shape. He doesn’t come up with anything plausible and decides to see what the other files are.  


There are three different scans about horses. Not exactly horses, fine. There are kelpies, something called a each uisge and a phooka, and they all are related by the horse part but the similarities end there. The each uisge seems like the most violent one, but the phooka has more shapes, not only limited by man and horse, and isn’t it nice that it can just be walking among them and they have no idea, but there’s goblin and even a bird. The creature in the video must’ve been one of these, and it was nowhere as friendly as the scanned pages implied. Ripping people apart wasn’t Stiles’ idea of mischief.  


If the hunters saw it in the woods he’s not surprised they’d think it was Derek. He’s missing now and who’s to say he didn’t take his werewolf form to kill innocent runners enjoying the nature in the Beacon Hills preserve. Well, everyone in the pack knows, but nobody will trust them… Stiles slaps a hand to his face and hits his nose harder than he intended. Stiles is rubbing his nose and fishing for his phone with the other hand. As soon as he digs it out of his back pocket Stiles doesn’t let himself hesitate and calls Derek.  


“Time for moping is over, sorry buddy.” He mutters to himself. Stiles almost isn’t surprised to immediately be redirected to voicemail. Derek didn’t even bother to change it to a personal message, so Stiles listens to the standard voice telling him to leave a message after a signal. “Hi, Derek.” Fine so far. “Or maybe not Derek. You probably threw your phone away and I’m wasting my breath, but dude. We, and by default you, are in deep shit. There’s this horse-goblin thingy in town. Probably. I think it’s here. It would explain a lot. But anyway, it has glowy red eyes just like yours and I think that the hunters saw it and think that the pack is behind it. So, call us and we’ll reassure them that we’re all well behaved and that they should stop shooting at kids. Ok, so, call me.”  


Stiles cringes at how he ended the call and starts what he’s supposedly best at – research.  


***  


It’s a week since Stiles got the information from Peter, four days since the hunters tried to capture Boyd and two days since the last attack by the mystical creature. Derek doesn’t call back. Stiles kicks himself internally for secretly hoping he would. He’s not equipped to handle this mess. He doesn’t have enhanced senses to tell if Peter’s lying or to hear if the pack’s in danger. He can’t run away from danger as fast as the weres and as far as research goes, he’s done all he could.  


It’s late at night and Stiles’ vision is blurring from staring at the computer screen for the last… what, three hours? There’s actually homework to do apart from the whole supernatural shebang. Not that Stiles got to that part, the last three hours were spent reading police reports and digging up entrapment spells and herbs from the bestiary. Considering half of it was in Archaic Latin and half was more about how to break that stuff if dealing with witches, you could say Stiles was at his limit.  


Maybe that’s why he did what he did.  


“Hi, Derek. Not cool. You should be here, you know?” Stiles sighs into the phone. It feels safe in a way, to be talking to Derek’s voicemail and knowing he won’t even listen to it. And even if he has his phone on him, he’ll delete a message from Stiles without thinking twice. It makes the boy braver, makes him speak up. “I’m not sure why I’m calling. I’m just tired to be honest. This is not my fight. I’m just human.” Stiles can’t help a laugh from getting out. “Peter keeps saying I’m so much more than that. Fuck Peter. He doesn’t understand. He’s so creepy, Derek, more creepy than you. I thought finding you in my bedroom was bad enough…”  


*  


He finds himself calling almost every night after that, telling himself he’ll stop next time.  


*  


“Hi, Derek. I feel like I’m writing to this newspaper asking for advice on my crush or something. No more crush for Stiles by the way. Jackson isn’t even here and I’m left with blue balls for the rest of my life. I bet you never had that problem. Anyway, we got off topic. It’s a bit weird without you glaring at me to shut up or slamming me into stuff. I don’t miss that part of our relationship. ” he’s silent for a while and then after a big sigh he starts again: “We need you back, ok? I can’t handle this. They all act like I can make the decision for them and… Scott got shot today. I thought I’d die if he-” This makes his eyes water and his hands shake again even if he knows his best friend is alright now. “Ok, ok. Not talking about that. But you know, I just- You won’t even listen to it anyway so I better…”  


He cuts off the message at that but still sends it.  


*  


“Hi! Stiles here. Calling again. Wow, didn’t expect that, huh?” Stiles chuckles. “I’m losing it, Derek. Seriously, I’m going insane if this keeps up. Today I thought that maybe I should ask Peter to come to our meeting next time. And I don’t- fuck! I don’t understand what his angle is! I just wish I could tell he was lying and fucking told him he has no business here. I just can’t believe that he only wants to have a pack. I can understand that but I can’t picture him wanting that after all he’s done…”  


*  


“Hi, Derek. I know you delete my messages. Or hell, you really could’ve gotten rid of your phone, but you don’t understand how perfect it is. It’s so so good, Derek. I can’t talk to anyone. They all think I’m so fucking strong and almighty.” There’s a bitter laugh. “Like nothing can hurt me. And man, I've told you already, I’m badass with the magic shit, but I’m- it’s not the physical stuff, ok? Just, I need to say it.” He sighs, bracing himself for the impact of the words and the moment they leave his lips he crumbles, curling into a ball on his bed. “I’m scared. So so scared. That thing, whatever it is, is killing people, it won’t stop. The hunters are pinning it on the pack, Peter is still creeping me out and you know that the last time I spoke with my dad was- shit I don’t even remember when we actually talked and not just said good morning and good night to each other.” This makes him try and make himself even smaller under the blanket. “He’s the only one I have left and he’s my father, he’s supposed to love me till one of us dies, right? And- I don’t say he doesn’t. But I miss him so much.”  


Stiles’ voice wavers and he bites the inside of his cheek but it doesn’t help and he’s sobbing, clutching at the phone in his hand. He sends the voice mail only out of habit and wonders if he can ask Danny to do something to delete it. Even if Derek will never hear it anyway.  


***  


Stiles is running through the woods in the middle of the night, choking on the crisp winter air, such a great way to spend time before a chem test tomorrow, Scott howling for the pack to come help them, the hunters, hopefully, far enough behind them to not get a clear shot (The stolen student files didn’t help much, especially with all the murders being the main focus of the police, but the hunters who were caught last time were called in for an interrogation, asking them what their relation to the two students was. Sadly no charges could be pressed and they just left the police department even more pissed off and blood-thirsty), and the each uisge hot on their heels, hoarding them closer to the water, making inhuman noises of an animal dying. He just hopes that the part of the legends saying hearing the horse-shifter’s voice is an omen of your inevitable death isn’t true. Or they’re fucked.  


The more corpses showed up in the woods, the more damage was done to them. The latest one had almost all of its internal organs eaten out, save for the liver, lungs and heart. Stiles likes his intestines and wants them all to stay inside his body, thank you very much. He trips again and Scott is there by his side, his wolfy claws scratching Stiles’ skin when he helps him up from the snow covered ground. Stiles has a fleeting hope that the goblin-horse still hasn’t attempted to kill them because of the protection pouches Stiles and Danny, turns out his grandfather was a shaman, learned how to make from Deaton, but the more they run and the more exhausted he gets, the more he thinks it just likes its meal sweaty and well worn out before it sinks its teeth into it. Into them. Stiles almost doesn’t make the turn in time, but Scott pulls him from the tree in his way as an explosive arrow hits the place Stiles’ head was just seconds ago. Maybe Stiles should start thinking what kind of death he prefers? Because between the each uisge and the hunters’ arrows he just might choose something that he knows for a fact is less painful than being drowned and getting ripped apart at the same time.  


But then there are twin howls from behind and Scott almost whimpers with relief, or Stiles thinks it’s relief. He didn’t get hit by a stray bullet or anything, did he? There are yelps and gunfire, but Stiles doesn’t allow himself to look back. The creature is still running in circles around him and Scott, and Stiles stumbles and when he rights himself they’re in a clearing where the lake is. It’s winter but the lake never is fully frozen, and not now, when the horse-shifter breaks the ice regularly to drown its pray. The first corpse was found here, absently thinks Stiles before a black figure with red eyes is jumping in front of him. He desperately wishes he had picked up a branch or something while they were still in the forest, because his human hands don’t have anything on the beast. It charges, but there’s a human shape in front of it, jumping in front of Stiles. It’s Peter, tearing into the creatures thick neck with his claws. The each uisge, trying to rebuff the attacks from Peter, Isaac and Scott, looks close to what Peter looked like in his alpha form, but its snout is closer to a horse's muzzle, and its hind legs are hooved.  


“Don’t touch the back!” Stiles yells, when Scott swipes at the goblin and it tries to turn its back to him. If you touch it – you’re stuck and basically you have to straddle it to get glued to it and then get drowned, but nobody’s taking chances.  


Isaac gets a hit to the chest and Stiles hears ribs cracking as Isaac is spluttering blood and struggling to get out of the way of the fight. Peter barks an order to Scott and this is a dire situation so Scott doesn’t even take a moment to doubt it and just holds on to the shifter’s neck, sinking his claws in. Stiles scrambled away from the clearing, standing by the tree line and subjected to just waiting for the outcome.  


Once Isaac can stand straight again, he’s lunging forward to help, holding the goblin’s head back, piercing its eyes, oh god, Stiles wants to gag. The creature wails and tries to shift into something smaller in hope that it’ll get the werewolfs off of it. But Peter takes a swipe, two, three, until his hands and the creature’s neck are a bloody gory mess. As the wolves let it go, it stumbles and falls face forward, making gurgling wheezing sounds, its legs convulsing as it’s stiffening, still changing between human, horse and this thing that probably is a goblin, stopping its twitching on a horror mix of each.  


Peter turns to look at Stiles, his face splattered with blood, reminding Stiles so clearly of that time he almost killed Lydia. The boy doesn’t know what it is that Peter sees in his eyes, or sniffs on him, whatever, but he turns away, facing Isaac and Scott instead.  


“The hunters are knocked out but we need to deal with them before going.”  


Stiles nods shakily, even if Peter isn’t looking.  


“Scott, can you-” he starts, but is immediately interrupted.  


“No.”  


“What?”  


“I’m not calling Allison. They’re not in the business any more. They don’t have anything to do with it.”  


Stiles sighs exhasperatedly, walking closer to the werewolves and the corpse in the clearing.  


“They can’t be out. It’s not how it works.”  


“We barely survived this…” quips Isaac, looking guilty. Probably because he’s objecting to what Scott said.  


“Isaac’s right. Have you forgotten that time they shot you? We need the Argents to help us here. We gave them enough time to pretend they’re normal.” Stiles cringes at Peter’s words. They’re true but the way he says it makes Stiles want to object just out of spite.  


“But…” Scott’s defeated and tired. And most likely still hoping that if Allison pretended like she’s not a hunter for a bit more, she’d come back to him.  


“Dude, we really need to clear the situation and even with the dead goblin as evidence I don’t think those assheads will choose to believe us.”  


After Scott’s defeated sigh and realizing nobody has their phones on them, Scott actually lost his while they were running for their lives, they head home, Scott and Isaac trying to find the phone by scent. That leaves Stiles to stroll through the woods with Peter and that’s not how he imagined his night going. At all.  


It doesn’t end up being too bad, considering. Peter makes do with a couple of snarky remarks and tsking in pity that they couldn’t entrap the creature for further study. He proudly produces a cut off hoof and a brush of black hair from his pocket, there’s that. Stiles tries not to gag at the growing stench and the disgusting sight, but Peter says Stiles will need this at some point and once Peter’s done with them, he’ll bring them to him. Ew. He also offers Stiles his jacket when he sees him shivering, it’s cold even with the warmest hoodie on; but at Stiles’ expression, eyes bugging out and mouth quirked in a disgust, he just rolls his eyes and doesn’t offer it anymore.  


Isaac finds the phone before they’re out of the forest and as soon as Scott dials Allison’s number (“No, a text won’t cut it, Scott.”), happy she didn’t blacklist him, Peter snatches it out of his hand, pushing the teen away with a clawed hand when he tries to get it back. The older werewolf is smiling charmingly, as if Allison will see him and as if anyone believes his smiles. He asks for Allison’s father and then rolls his eyes after a moment and says “No” for a while in varying tones of annoyance.  


“She asked if I was in danger.” preens Scott, whispering this in Stiles’ ear. He doesn’t, though, deem it necessary to tell Stiles anything else and Peter’s “The pack is safe. The hunters will be dealt with.” Doesn’t sound very reassuring and not at all like the hunters will make it through alive. Stiles makes a mental note to ask Isaac later, because Scott tuned out of the world after Allison went all warrior-princess mode on the phone.  


As Stiles is driving home, leaving the werewolves to run to their houses and hoping he didn’t catch a cold today because that would suck, he’s thinking of how the night could have gone differently. How Peter and Isaac could’ve been late to the rescue, or what would happen if one of the hunters shot him or Scott. Or what if there would be a large black wolf, jumping into the middle of the fight and easily slaying the shape shifter. And without asking anyone, Stiles would know that it’s Derek. That he couldn’t stay away from his pack being in danger. That of course he came back. And that maybe Stiles’ calls helped in that. Even if most of the time the boy really hopes that Derek didn’t listen to the voice messages at all.  


But all in all – it ended fairly well. Nobody died and that’s like a really big accomplishment for them lately. Except for the each uisge, but that doesn’t count. Stiles is telling Derek all about it in his next call, reprimanding him for not swooping in for the rescue.  
“…So now you get to come back to a calm relaxing environment and fresh air, and all the running around in the woods, now that the Preserve will be open again. It’s almost a resort, dude. You’re missing out.”  


In the end Stiles does get sick, still goes to school, does his best on the Chem test, not expecting a good grade anyway, because Harris is a bitch, and gets to spend a week at home which is boring as fuck, but he’ll take it over running away from things trying to eat him anytime.  


***  


Peter is slowly sharing his family’s library with Stiles, Lydia drops by so they, Stiles, Lydia is perfect and doesn’t really need it, could practice dead languages for reading the Bestiary, Danny, and Stiles isn’t sure if he envies him or is happy he himself is off the hook, became a full-time apprentice for Deaton, learning magic shit and teaching some of the easier stuff to Stiles. Ok, Stiles is a bit envious, because the whole magic thingy – it was his thingy. And now he’s not even useful for that. Not that he needs to be useful, they’re all his friends, even Cora, who appeared to be ok, just wary, and either Stiles is fooled, or she really doesn’t have anything to hide, and he feels a bit guilty for disliking her at first; so they’ll hang around him anyway. Even creepy Peter. But Stiles liked having his thing. And now he’s just this human, who knows a bit of everything, but everyone else still knows more.  


Peter’s gifts become his special thing now. Before anyone else knows what hit them, Stiles already has a flash drive on his table with photos, scanned pages and ancient drawings of the thing that came to town. He tries not to think of Peter being in his bedroom too hard. Sometimes he thinks that it’s suspicious that Peter has all this information right when Stiles needs it, but even Peter wouldn’t be that big a dick to sick magical creatures on them for his own schemes.  


Stiles’ worried about relying on Peter so much. He still checks and double checks and doesn’t voice anything until he’s entirely sure, but so far Peter never gave him false information. And it doesn’t even look like he’s hiding any part of it, any crucial part, which, in turn, makes their alliance even more suspicious. But Stiles rolls with it. The moment he feels something’s off – even if it’s a gut feeling – all bets are off.  


The not pack is training together now. Scott took charge of it because even if Cora was a werewolf longer, he’s still better at combat and after coming back to Beacon Hills after Thanksgiving she decided she’s leaving soon. Before she left, not even a month later, Cora teached the wolves their tricks of the trade: controlling the shift, not healing by demand, taking someone’s pain away – werewolfy stuff you can’t learn from google. Peter never asks to join but sometimes he’s there during practice. The not pack decides not to confront him as long as he doesn’t attack first, but they always tell the humans if he’s around.  


Christmas goes better than Thanksgiving, the usual small McCall-Stilinski party relieved of tension that is there all the other days, everyone trying so hard to pretend that they’re normal and that noone’s hiding anything and that they could die any day and the only explanation for it would be another animal attack. Stiles meets the New Year in his room, shooting at zombies and chatting with Scott about encountering them in real life and what zombies exactly would the real ones be? More of a Left 4 Dead or the Walking Dead kind of zombies? Later he asks Derek what he thinks on this matter and, predictably, doesn’t get an answer.  


By march they have another monster in town, ruining Lydia’s birthday party. It’s not her usual kind of party, even if Stiles had Cynthia and Gloria on speed dial if she decided she changed her mind (even if owing them last time turned into an impromptu cross-dressing party he prefers not to remember). That’s what he’s ready to do for her. Even if he’s realizing he’s not in love any more. It’s a bit sad, letting go of the crush, but when he gets that it’s not even Lydia he’s clinging to, but the feeling of being in love with her forever, it’s easier to get over it.  


When Jackson’s face smiles uncertainly from the tv screen, hooked to the computer, Stiles gets why she didn’t want all the people. Lydia bursts into tears and Jackson looks like he’s seconds away from crying himself, so everyone leaves them to go out and get a couple of drinks while the lovebirds get their reunion. Stiles hopes there’ll be no Skype-sex involved. He wills himself not to imagine it but he’s a teenager, it’s hard (hard, heh), and on second though he’s not sure if it’ll be super wrong of them, or super hot. What, both Jackson and Lydia are like really pretty.  


Because Stiles’ brain is stupid like that, his next thought is that he doesn’t have anyone to have Skype-sex or any sex, or really anything, he’d be fine with hand-holding; and he’s pathetically alone. When he looks around he can’t help a laugh, because at least he’s not alone in his… aloneness. Both Scott and Boyd are single, Stiles tries not to remember about why Boyd doesn’t have a date because today is a perfect wonderful day and he doesn’t want to remember how Erica looked cut in half.  


Isaac calls Cora and hides in a corner, talking to her. Stiles didn’t see it coming. This makes Scott even more miserable with not having Allison and all that. Danny is here alone but Stiles knows for a fact that he has a boyfriend. He maybe kind of indirectly asked Danny out, again. And Danny doesn’t lie. He’d say it outright if he didn’t want to date Stiles. Not that he wants to. But he actually has someone and Stiles is happy for him. After his last ex who stormed across the parking lot drunk and yelled things at Danny that got him a black eye from Scott, Stiles is happy that at least now everything seemed to be ok.  


Of course it’s Danny’s boyfriend that’s ruining the party and attacking them. Of-fucking-course.  


Danny, and god he’s never getting a normal boyfriend, ended up dating a kitsune, a fox spirit. Stiles always pictured them as sexy chicks, but he guesses that wouldn’t work for Danny. Brad, that’s what its name was while it was human, was trying to avenge his father, humiliated by Danny’s grandpa. Brad’s father lost his rank and was cast away for not being able to fool the human. Brad obviously practiced a lot, planning his vengeance, and by the time the werewolves realized it was their own pack they were attacking, thank you Lydia, the kitsune was gone.  


Stiles and Danny ended up spending the night at Deaton’s, the werewolves guiltily sucking away any traces of pain while Danny got a crash course on what herbs and spells to use so they would heal faster.  


It didn’t end at that, hell no, and all the information on the fox demons was really contradicting, when was anything easy? Before doing anything they had to find out if the ex was posessed or if it was his own human form, then depending on its origin the code it followed would be defined, and when Brad used illusions to fool them again and again, getting any answers was impossible.  


In the end the human part of the pack worked out an entrapment that held him and once all the tricks were done with, the dude faked a seizure, not cool, they got to the interrogation part. Brad didn’t possess anyone, at least that was good to know. But with his low rank he didn’t have much to lose. Danny refused to marry him, Stiles doesn’t blame him but he had to ask, that would make things a lot easier. In the end the kitsune swears to not bother them again and not to execute revenge on any of their families and to stop the stupid one-man war. Lydia might have phrased it differently but the idea was the same. Good for them the fox-shifter had to be true to his word or he’d lose a fair amount of his powers. And if he tried attacking them without the powers, they’d be able to beat him down even faster than now.  


In the end Lydia has a tantrum and has another party. The public noisy half-the-school-invited type. Even if it’s more than a week after the actual birthday.  


It’s almost a creature of the week deal now. Stiles keeps forgetting to check if Beacon Hills was actually built on a cemetery or on a destroyed shrine or something, because this shit: not funny. There’re faeries and trolls within a month. And they’re not even done driving the faeries away when the trolls invade the forest. It’s like everything is waking up after the chilly winter. Stiles is growing to hate spring.  


It’s a banshee next time and the night they defeat it turns into the morning of Stiles’ birthday. He hasn’t celebrated his birthday for years, but the pack drags him to Derek’s loft and there’s beer and chips, a cupcake with a candle he’s forced to blow out, and the Batman trilogy waiting for them beside the dvd. Stiles, feeling generous, calls Peter to join and he’s there suspiciously fast. Absent-mindedly Stiles thinks that Peter must’ve been the one who bought all the beer.  


It’s quiet and nice and not like he imagined a birthday party, but it’s even better. In the middle of Peter arguing with Lydia and Isaac kissing Scott on the cheek, pretending to be drunk, Stiles slips away and locks himself in the bathroom. He never stopped calling Derek. It wasn’t entirely useless – his dad didn’t have to pay for a shrink and Stiles got to get everything that bothered him off his chest. He stopped calling regularly: sometimes he wouldn’t call in weeks, the other time it would be three days in a row. And even if Derek never answered, calling him today felt appropriate.  


“Your pack threw me a birthday party, can you imagine?” Stiles laughs into the phone, fiddling with the hem of his dirty shirt: he never got the chance to change after all the running around in the woods. “We got rid of the banshee by the way. Five points for us! Isaac is getting super confident with those ridiculous back-flips and Boyd is almost at your level of slinking off into the dark. But no one compares to you, dude. And no one can master the eyebrows of doom so there’s always something missing.”  


“Who are you talking to? I need to pee, man.” Stiles almost falls into the bathtub on which he was perched. He cries out “No-one!” to Scott and finishes the call with a quick Bye and promising to call later. Everybody is pretending they didn’t just spend all their time listening in on him, but Stiles is all up for pretending too so he turns up the volume on the movie and stuffs his face with chips, willing the blush away.  


It’s two days later and the pack, a noisy mess, all but falls into Derek’s apartment. Nobody even tries to pretend it’s for a school project, to study in peace and quiet, especially with Peter in tow, discussing what movie they’re watching today and who’s ordering pizza, when the chatter dies out and Stiles bumps into a very stiff back. He rubs his nose, shooting a glare at the back of Isaac’s head and looking over his shoulder and… oh. Stiles’ limbs flail out of habit but then he too goes stiff, willing himself not to blink because this can’t be real and if he blinks Derek might just disappear. Yeah, it’s Derek. In the middle of the room. Standing there, unmoving as the rest of them. Derek.  


“Holy sh-”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wish I would spend more time on the creature of the week because the possibilities were endless but I'm trying not to bore you to death and I'm sure it's not working, so the creature feature is kinda short.  
> 
> 
> Next chapter with actual Sterek tomorrow!


	3. Your Broken Smile (Touched Me Unexpectedly)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“You’ll do it?”_   
> _“I… not really what I had in mind but… Yeah, I guess, ok, yeah...”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> still unbetaed. actually this part might just be written even worse than the rest.  
> living up to the fic summary in this one.

They approach tentatively, like walking on needles, barely daring to breathe. Stiles once again wonders how they all miss the point of being werewolves and didn’t know Derek was there when entering. But then again, always having to smell everything probably got you immune and you learned to focus your sniffer on the smells around you unless you needed to smell something out.  


Stiles’ stomach growls loudly, breaking the silence and bringing everyone back to life. Peter migrates from the back to stand in front of the group, nodding his head.  


“Welcome back.”  


After this everyone says their hello’s but they’re trying not to look at Derek and don’t address him any more, quietly ordering pizza and spreading throughout the appartment, Isaac making a dash for the bathroom, Boyd and Scott ducking into the kitchen which doesn’t really help hide, considering the kitchen is only separated from the loft by the counter, leaving Peter, Lydia and Danny along with Stiles the only ones who didn’t flee. Derek is still as stiff as when they walked inside and if not for the famous glare permanently plastered to Derek’s face, following everyone as they made their way through the apartment, Stiles would worry if Derek was under some kind of spell. But he supposes Danny’s spidey senses were supposed to kick in at moments like that so Stiles declared the situation danger-free in his head and stompes off to the couch, throwing his backpack to the floor and sitting across from Derek’s form, turned to him now. Lydia plops beside him, dragging Danny along with her and Peter goes to join Scott and Boyd, manhandling them from his way and getting out vegetables and meat obviously going to start cooking.  


Maybe Stiles forgot what it’s like to be subjected to the Hale Glare (tm), or maybe Derek really is mad and approaching him was a bad idea. For all Stiles knows, Derek could’ve been spending the last few months being a savage animal and this is the first time he actually took his human form so he still thinks like a wolf. He is acting a lot like a caged animal and he still hasn’t used any words. If he keeps at it Stiles is going to start panicing and might do something stupid. Like throw a book at Derek’s head. Which won’t help with the wolfy instincts to rip him apart. And lets be honest, those are the usual Derek instincts without even needing to tune in to the wolf. His train of thought leads him from peing on trees and scratching out flees to Derek not being a wolf and spending the past months perfectly human, thus exposed to modern technology, thus owning a phone like a real boy and Stiles is feeling heat rising to his face and his heart stammering before it picks up at a frantic pace.  


“Hi.” Stiles cringes. His voice is more of a squeak than anything and this doesn’t help his blushing situation. On his birthday he called Derek again, just like he said he would. And it wasn’t really his fault his friends weren’t able to get drunk and he got into a drinking contest with them. He remembers bits. Like boasting about Danny’s mad skills, or saying something about Scott being all chill about the training sessions. But then there were bits about caterpilar-eyebrows and a stupid scowly face and how a certain werewolf ass, a very attractive ass by the way, should get here and fucking look at how awesome everything is. How it would be a great birthday present.  


And of course now he has to remember the other calls, with whining and complaining about Isaac stealing Scott, with crying about his dad and him growing apart, moping about being the useless human, asking for advice on what to do, and the stupid ones where Stiles would let his mouth run the show and would blurt stuff about werewolf anatomy, particularily their dicks, there was that; but that last one, from the birthday, was a million times worse but along with the dread he couldn’t help but feel this sick rush of hope. What if Derek did listen? As embarassing as it would be, it would mean he came back for Stiles, as a present for his birthday, and, crap, he had to imagine Derek being an angry furrow-browed stripper, didn’t he? This was not the time nor the place! And why did his brain have to work like that?!  


Derek doesn’t take his eyes off of him now and Stiles tries to slink into the couch, squirming under the unblinking gaze. When Stiles thinks he can’t take it anymore, and what the hell is wrong with everyone, how could they just start talking normally like having an angry Derek in the middle of the room was something they got to see every day and it stopped being entertaining after the first five minutes; Derek makes a step towards him, another one. If Stiles dies now and nobody does a thing to prevent it he’ll haunt their asses till the day they all die! But then Derek is walking around the couch, finally turning his glare away, grabs a stool from the kitchen and drags it to the farthest darkest corner of the bright spacious room, which isn’t as dark and gloomy as he’d need to look intimidating and just sits there now, staring.  


The pizza is delivered withing the next twenty minutes and everyone diggs in, sometimes glancing at Derek. When Isaac tries to stand up to offer Derek some of it, he’s stopped by Peter and, damn, is that some wolf politics? Or are there rules about welcoming your alpha back and your first meal having to be a deer or something? After another twenty minutes Peter brings Derek a bowl of soup he’s just made, another bowl in hand, for himself. The two oldest werewolves stay in the corner while they eat and when they’re done it’s only Peter that leaves, Derek stays there, unmoving, and staring. This is new levels of horrible communication skills for Derek and this is far past the usual creepy and is plain scary. But most of the pack aren’t even paying attention. Stiles feels like he’s missing something but he can’t get what it is. At some point when Lydia nudges him with an elbow, saying something about math of all things, Stiles can’t take it any more and rises to his feet. He marches towards Derek, emitting a low growl out of him. Here’s to hoping Scott has his back.  


“Ok, this is officially the creepiest thing you’ve ever done. Dude, you either sit with us or… I don’t know, I haven’t thought this through. Just, stop sitting here and join us, ok?”  


Derek is silently staring and Stiles swears he’ll hit him if this goes on for another second. Then Derek is moving forward, movments swift and graceful, not stiff like they were before. He reaches back for the stool and an image of him hitting Stiles on the head with it rushes through the boy’s brain. But Derek is lifting it in the air and taking heavy deliberate steps to the couch and armchairs, with the pack looking expectantly at him.  


“Ok. Ok, cool. That’ cool.” Stiles wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans and stumbles after him.  


***  


Stiles all but runs to the apartment after school the next day and Derek is there. He hasn’t left. If his heart skips a beat at that he can’t help it. Derek is sitting on the couch, flipping the channels and Stiles only hesitates a moment before joining him, planting on the other side from Derek.  


After opening and closing his mouth four times in several minutes Stiles decides that talking to Derek on the phone was a thousand times easier. Part of him is scared Derek will just tell him to shut up as soon as he says anything but he can’t give up without even trying. And in an alternative universe Derek is telling Stiles he missed him and came for him. And the pack, of course. But here, in this universe, Stiles has no hope for such a thing happening so he talks instead.  


“How was your day?” now that he can get answers from Derek and it isn’t a one way stream he’s going to try it out. Derek shrugs and grunts. Maybe he really was a wolf all that time and doesn’t have power over his vocal chords?  


“Cool. Mine too. I mean more of a hmph than a-” Stiles grunts. “But pretty much the same.”  


No reaction. But when were the Stilinski’s known for giving up so easily?  


“So it’s… um… good to see you around again.” At that Derek is getting up, switching off the tv and throwing the remote to where he used to sit, and walks up the stairs without looking back. What the..?  


***  


Derek is there on a training session-slash-gladiator fight, because the betas are going out of their way to show how cool they’ve become and what they can do now. Even Danny is showing off his magical powers, looking like a freakin’ model while blocking attacks. Even Scott gives it his all and Stiles is secretly proud he doesn’t get all up in Derek’s grill for once. He’s totally allowed to do that again though, as soon as Derek starts acting more like himself.  


Stiles is so busy trying to deschipher Derek’s expression that he doesn’t see it coming when Boyd jumps at him, tackling him to the ground. Stiles tries to keep a furious expression on his face while Boyd gets off of him and while he is getting the dirt off of his jeans. A second later he’s running into the middle of a werewolf pile, wrestling Isaac into a noogie and trying not to get his ass kicked as the show-off performance turns into a puppy pile on the ground.  


The only ones left out are Lydia, Peter and Derek and none of them would budge, not even when Stiles yelled for help out of the middle of the pile, burried by hot people. Not such a bad way to go.  


That night Peter crawls into Stiles’ window.  


“You promissed.” Is the first thing out of his mouth.  


“I did no such thing.” He really didn’t. Not his fault Peter assumed he’d help. Stiles does feel guilty for making use of Peter’s books and accepting his help, but it’s Derek’s decission and if he won’t let him back into the pack, Stiles has nothing to do with it. He says as much.  


Peter shakes his head and says they’ll return to this talk later, when Stiles is rested. The teen almost yells out of his window that nothing’s going to change, but remembers his dad is at home tonight in time.  


***  


Derek is there, doing his lurking thing, looking at the pack from afar, probably thinking glum and sad things. At least that’s what his face looks like. Or maybe he thinks of kittens and puppies with the same expression and Stiles can’t stop laughing for a while after thinking this, making everyone look at him like he’s crazy. Except for Scott, Scott knows how his mind works so he just gives him a toothy smile which Stiles returns.  


Derek is there for the Scott meltdown too. Scott isn’t controling his shift and his wolfy face is scrunched up as he cries. From what Stiles figured between the sobs, Scott and Allison started texting after the each uisge incident and it was all fine and dandy for a while, Stiles doesn’t understand how he didn’t notice this was happening right under his nose. And they even had two secret dates before this happened. This being a call saying they can’t do this any more and it was a bad idea from the start. And now Allison has Scott’s number blocked.  


Scott asks to be chained so he won’t do anything stupid, but Stiles won’t even listen to this and turns a death-glare at anyone who as much as squeaks a protest. Not that his death-glares are anything impressive, but Scott not having a smile on his face is heartbreaking enough. There’s no need to put him in chains too.  


In the end Scott spends an evening with Stiles and Isaac, watching crappy action movies and eating all the sweet things Stiles manages to find at home, dad really got creative with his hiding places, but with Isaac’s help now Stiles knows them all.  


***  


It’s not the worst week they’ve had. Far from it, if you don’t count Scott’s drooping ears and lifeless exterior. And then Derek actually comes up to Stiles once they’re the only ones left at the clearing, Stiles’ jeep waiting for him and Derek, unless Derek wants to have a run in the woods. Derek is using words, and full sentences and Stiles’ heart leaps with excitement and anticipation, so it doesn’t register immediately that Derek is talking about leaving.  


“…Anyway, you’re doing great. And I need to get back, my neighbour might start worrying if I don’t show up soon.”  


Stiles is gaping like a fish, hands a flailing jerky mess. And then they’re just grabbing Derek’s leather jacket and Derek glares down but Stiles can’t let go.  


“You can’t go.” Derek raises an eyebrow at him and it’s such a familiar “you’re an idiot, Stiles,” gesture that Stiles fists his hands even harder in the leather fabric. “You can’t. The betas, they need an alpha. They need you. You can’t imagine how hard it was to bring them back together after you left! I can’t see them drifting apart again!” Derek looks like he wants to say something, but Stiles talks over him, raising his voice, unable to stop: “You know how to be a werewolf, you will know if Peter’s planning something evil, you can hit Scott! Don’t tell him I said it but you two get off on fighting each other and it’s a fact. Dude, you can’t go. You-” there’s rage bubbling over the panic and it’s taking over. Even if Derek obviously didn’t come back for him, or didn’t plan on coming back at all, he gave them hope and he’s not leaving again. Maybe he doesn’t know how hard it was on Stiles, still is, but not knowing doesn’t mean he can leave! “You won’t leave!”  


And now the teen is showing him away, letting go and momentarily afraid Derek will run off now that he’s free.  


“They are your responcibility! Isaac and Boyd? They’re your betas! You always kept saying Scott is your brother, so what now, you’re gonna abandon him?!”  


The next words are knocked out of Stiles as his back hits a tree and Derek’s forearm is at his neck, close to chocking him, his eyes glowing crimson, fangs visible when Derek opens his mouth.  


“They don’t need me! And the way they are now proved it to me! I won’t stay in this town! I won’t- I can’t take it! This air is deadly.” Derek’s yelling subdued to whispering and his eyes are back to the hazel-blue mix, fangs retracted and his grip on Stiles loosening a bit. Derek is quiet for too long and Stiles opens his mouth to prompt him to speak when Derek locks eyes with him.  


“I’ll die in this town. There’s no other way. I’ll suffocate to death. I’ll see you all die and then follow you.”  


Stiles’ eyes are wide and he moves before thinking, gently touching his hand to Derek’s forearm, no longer chocking him but a warm presence against his neck.  


“I couldn’t breathe for years after my mom died. I still feel all the air leaving my lungs when I hear her name, or when I pass by her favourite café, or even if some woman is wearing the perfume she liked.” Derek isn’t looking at him, moving away, and Stiles holds on firmer to his forearm, hanging losely between them now. “I know my loss is nothing like yours, but it… it never gets better but when you have someone to care for- I had dad. I saw him slowly fading away without her and I couldn’t stand it. So I did everything to give him other things to think about.” He’s never talked about this time of his life with anyone. Not even with Scott. Everybody thinks they were friends from before they could walk, but they met a long time after that, they clicked instantly, as if that was in fact the way it was. But he never told him this part. Stiles feels raw, laying it all out in front of Derek, but his phone!Derek, the nonexistent Derek, makes it easier to share this, because there’s almost nothing he doesn’t know already.  


“Your pack needs you. You need to make them your priority. And… if you need practice there’s always me. I can turn your life into a Stilinski-filled hell so you won’t be able to think about anything but me and how you want to-”  


Stiles doesn’t get to finish it with “rip my throat out,” because his back is hitting the same tree trunk again, and Derek’s lips are on his lips and it’s all so fast and hot, and Derek’s lips are chapped… Before he even gets a coherent thought inbetween the panic mixed with a stupid jolt of happiness, Derek is off of him and Stiles didn’t even respond to the kissing.  


“You’ll do it?”  


Stiles blinks away confusion and tries to figure out how their talk led to this. His thought are a jumbled mess but one thought is standing out, clear as day. Derek thinks of being with him as a personal hell. Stiles’ heart sinks, the blush fading away from his cheeks.  


“I… not really what I had in mind but… Yeah, I guess, ok, yeah, but-”  


Derek cuts his words again and Stiles is faster to catch up this time, opening his mouth when Derek prods at his lips with his tongue, whining pathetically when Derek nibbles at his lips and bites his jaw. Derek is sucking on his neck before he knows it and he should say no. Because this is all kinds of wrong. That’s not what any of them need right now and Stiles will just hate himself later.  


His hands come up on both sides of Derek’s face and he pulls him back up, kissing hungrily and eager.  


***  


As far as first times go this couldn’t’ve been the worst. It wasn’t even the embarrassement, or the deafening silence surrounding them on their way to Derek’s apartment. It wasn’t the shower Stiles took knowing Derek could hear him working himself open, getting ready, it wasn’t the pain that didn’t go away as fast as fics promissed, nor was it his dick going soft because of the pain. Derek took him from the back and never uttered a word, just panting and grunting, coming with a muffled shout, biting into Stiles’ shoulder. He jerked Stiles off after, turning him to lay on his back and even kissing him after.  


Derek was the hottest person Stiles knew in real life and maybe he harboured a tiny crush on him, because who didn’t? Only blind people, that’s who. But this Derek and the Derek he shared his deepest secrets and fears with were two different people, even if one was imaginary. And having sex with Derek felt shallow and nothing like Stiles imagined his first time going.  


On the bright side – he wasn’t a virgin any more. And Derek said he’d stay. You go, Stiles Stilinski!  


***  


It’s Friday, thank god for Fridays! Stiles desperately needs to go home and sleep for the rest of the day, because he’s exhausted and he decided that he’d avoid his werewolf friends in case they smelled something on him. Something being Derek. Hiding the hickey on his neck was hard enough already.  


Stiles is startles when he sees Derek leaning on his jeep, throwing his head back in a breathy laugh at something Boyd is telling. There are two girls from school with them, ogling both men, chuckling quietly at whatever Boyd said and Lydia looks positively disgusted but she doesn’t leave so it’s always a good sign with Lydia.  


“What… are you doing?” Stiles feels like his every move, like his voice is betraying what happened. And it’s not a big deal. People loose virginity all the time. If anything he should be boasting about sleeping with Derek. Stiles just wants them all to get away from his jeep and be left alone.  


“Nothing.” Smirks one of the barbies, Sarah or something, and Stiles can’t help his eyes from drifting to Derek. Did he tell them? Is that why they’re laughing? Oh god, he is so overthinking this. He needs to get home. Like yesterday.  


“It doesn’t matter. I wanted to go to the mall today and Lana and Sarah said they’ll go with me. We honoured you with the role of our designated driver.”  


“Nooo.” slumps Stiles, making his body go limp as Lydia drags him to the driver’s side door.  


“Yeees.” she mocks him and all but stuffs him into the car. “That’s why Boyd and Derek are coming along. You three can go to the arcade and shoot at pixel monsters or do some manly stuff while waiting for us.”  


Stiles still complains, but the arcade actually sounds good. Then he remembers that Derek will be there. He’s nervous up until the point where Derek pays for the three of them and Stiles forgets all about everything, killing alien invaders. He’s never left without coins to put into the machine, someone always giving him more when he’s left with two or three. It must be Derek but this isn’t something Stiles wants to think about.  


At the end of the day it’s Stiles who has to be dragged out of the mall and while he bemoans his high score and leaving the planet unprotected, their car arrengments are somehow rearranged and he’s looking at the camaro driving away, Boyd taking Lydia and the girls home and Derek leading him to the jeep.  


“Am I… supposed to take you home?” Derek must hear his heartbeat spiking up and Stiles doesn’t know how he figures out that it doesn’t mean he’s aroused, but Derek shakes his head.  


“I’ll drive with you to your house. Your dad had the day shift today, he’ll be at home by now.” Stiles doesn’t see how having his dad being at home can be a problem, considering they don’t talk at all, but he doesn’t want to go to Derek’s so he nods and starts the car.  


Derek isn’t smiling and laughing any more, the way he did when the girls were there, touching his arms and flirting unsubtly. He’s spending most of the ride staring out of the window, chancing glances at Stiles from time to time. Stiles isn’t sure how Derek knows his dad’s shifts, but Derek is a creeper. Or maybe he asked Peter. Which isn’t less creepy. Stiles wants to say something, to get rid of the silence, but his tongue is tied and instead he counts the miles till he’s home.  


Derek makes him stop a block before Stiles’ house so “the sheriff doesn’t see him.” But that’s stupid and useless, because Stiles isn’t even sure his dad would ask about the company Stiles keeps these days. Before leaving Derek leans over the gearbox and presses a chaste kiss to Stiles’ lips. Like the neighbours wouldn’t report to the sheriff about his underage son kissing an ex-accused murderes.  


***  


There’s a text from an unfamiliar number saying that there’ll be a pack meeting on Saturday. Stiles figures it’s Derek but decides to ask anyway.  


**When did u change ur number?**   


The answer comes withing the next minute and Stiles didn’t expect anything but his heart sinks.  


**as soon as i left bh**   


Stiles tells himself that it’s nothing to be sad over for half an hour before he decides that he’s old enough to be sad if he wants to.  
Stiles stomps down the stairs to make himself some hot cocoa with all the marshmallows he can find and sees dad sleeping on the couch in front of the tv. There’s a tightening in his throat that the boy ignores and goes to cover his dad with a quilt. He doesn’t switch the tv off though, because the moment he’ll do it, dad will be awake claiming he wasn’t sleeping.  


Stiles tries not to make a clatter when he’s making himself his hot comforting bevarage and goes back to his room, trying to think of how great it was at the arcade today instead of… all the other things. In the end he falls asleep in the middle of the Daniel Craig’s Bond marathon.  


***  


The whole pack, including Scott and Peter, and the three humans is at Derek’s. Aparently Derek ordered chinese and has sodas in the fridge. He’s chatting animatedly to Isaac, looking nothing like the Derek that came back here a bit over a week ago. Looking nothing like Derek at any time. Not even when he had a girlfriend. It’s his fake smile Derek used on one of Stiles’ dad’s deputies. It’s fake through and through but everybody seems to buy it and as long as Derek’s trying, Stiles guesses he’s ok with it.  


Derek declares he’s staying somewhere in the middle of it all, calling for attention. His words are met with laughter and duh’s and everyone saying it was obvious, of course he would stay. And Stiles just digs into his food. Everybody’s happy. That’s good.  


Stiles is reaching for his hoodie to leave with everyone, when a hand snatches it from the couch before Stiles gets to grab at it. Stiles looks up and Derek isn’t the smiling Derek from before. His eyes aren’t fake any more and Stiles fidgets in place, his hands coming up to cross over his chest.  


“Dude, are you coming?” Scott’s looking expectantly at him through the open door and Stiles forces a smile onto his face, softly shaking his head.  


“Nah, me and Derek, we- I wanted to stay for a bit more, there’s some stuff… I wanted to ask him… I’ll see you later?” Scott furrows his brows and tilts his head to the side but leaves with an uncertain wave of a hand.  


Derek is still for a long time, his head tilted in a way that tells Stiles he’s listening to something, probably waiting for the others to leave their hearing range. And then he’s all over Stiles, pushing his shirt up and coveing his face with tiny kisses, moving to his neck and biting down on his collarbone, all the while pushing him closer and closer to the couch. They stumble backwards and Derek is on top of him, giving Stiles a long fiery kiss and then proceeding to kiss down his body.  


This is better than that first time, even if Stiles can’t get of that tinge of nervousness that’s always at the back of his mind when he’s around Derek. Derek is licking and biting his nipples and Stiles is cradling his head close to his chest, letting out pathetic mewling sounds and thrusting his hips up. Derek stops him when Stiles tries to pull down his jeans, wiggling under Derek. Instead Derek unzips his own jeans too and lines up their cocks, making Stiles shudder. Stiles’ hands won’t comply and instead of doing something usefull are helplessly clutching at Derek’s shoulders as Derek envelops both their dicks in his hot hand, stroking just right until Stiles is throwing his head back, his mouth open in a silent “O.” Derek bites down on his throat and groans, his come mixing with Stiles’ on the teen’s stomach.  


Derek goes away the moment he can move and comes back with a box of tissues, throwing them at Stiles’ head. Stiles makes an affronted sound but wipes the come off before it dries and tugs himself in, standing up to search for his discarded tshirt. Once Stiles is safely wrapped up in his hoodie he looks to Derek. The man’s sitting on the couch, shirtless, eating the leftover chineese like nothing happened.  


“I, uh…”  


“Do you want the eggrolls?” Stiles wants to go home, because all of this is giving him mixed signals and he’s not ready to face his own feelings on the matter. Ew, feelings, who needs them? Stiles hovers in place and then nods, walking back and sitting beside Derek, not too close to touch, but close enough to bump elbows if you consider Stiles’ grace. Derek pushes two eggrolls to Stiles and Stiles clearly remembers Scott bemoanong that Isaac ate the last one. He won’t think about it. Because that way lies overthinking and madness. Stiles makes appreciative noises at the food and then watches Derek get up and bringing them a can of soda each. Maybe it’s all a sorry for ripping his ass in half? Ok, it wasn’t that bad but there was a moment when he felt like that was exactly what was happening. Derek was fucking enormous. And he should stop thinking about the werewolf’s dick, knottless as he discovered.  


Derek doesn’t see him to the door nor does he kiss him goodbye and Stiles wrecks his brain all the way home.  


***  


It’s easier to close his eyes and pretend. Part of him feels weird and is protesting against not looking at Derek, naked and perfect, kissing and biting down his body, mapping out his scars. He doesn’t feel them so much as he knows exactly where they are and knows that Derek’s lips are always tender on the scarred flesh. He’s closing his eyes and trying not to look at Derek entering him, beautiful and flushed red, sweat dripping down his skin, concentrated and excruciatingly slow at first. He doesn’t look at him when Derek bites on his thighs but never moves lower, never takes Stiles into his mouth and he doesn’t protest because they aren’t about love, it’s not about it at all. Stiles can’t help sneaking glances but, and how ridiculous is that, when he’s thinking that it’s Derek having sex with him, all Stiles wants to do is stop it, push him away and hide under the covers until he leaves. That’s why Stiles closes his eyes, his hearing and sensibility spiking and going into overdrive under Derek’s hands and tongue, that’s why he’s just concentrating on this, on having sex with someone other than his right, and occasionally left, hand. It’s sex, and it’s good, awesome, perfect. After that disasterous first time Derek took his time with him, taking them slowly to the whole butt-fucking. And once Stiles knew what was coming and after Derek worked him open to the point that he thought he’d come just from that, it was like the best thing ever. He just needed to remember to keep his eyes shut and not think about Derek.  


Stiles is sure he and Derek smell like each other, but none of the werewolves say anything. Derek doesn’t leave marks, so the human part of the pack probably has no idea if the werewolves didn’t feel gossipy. And Stiles is almost disappointed at the lack of interest, but it’s good too. Lately he’s having conflicting feelings about everything. Granted, everything means all things Derek lately. Details, details, it doesn’t matter.  


But at some point the quiet ignoring had to stop and when a meeting at Derek’s is over with the decission not to act unless provoked towards the pack circling the border of their territory, Scott stands up first and sounds so accusing and betrayed Stiles just wants to shrink into the chair he’s been occupying.  


“What is going on between you?” Stiles forces a laugh out of himself with a joke ready on the tip of his tongue, but Scott doesn’t let him talk. “You smell like each other. A lot.”  


“We missed each other. _A lot_.” Stiles mocks, exaggerating Scott’s tone at the same time as Derek says:  


“We’re sleeping with each other.”  


It’s like the air is punched out of Stiles and he chokes, whipping his head to stare at Derek. He feels his cheeks heating up. Crap.  


“What Derek meant-” he’s not even allowed to continue because the room dissolves into a cacaphony of voices, commenting how they knew for a while now, how this was obvious, how they don’t want to hear about the details, how somebody did want to have the details, but all Stiles made out of the noise, loud and clear, was Scott’s low growl and deafening silence.  


Soon it was only Derek and Stiles in the apartment. And Stiles still haven’t moved a muscle, scared even to breathe. He flinches away when Derek’s warm hand touches his shoulder and everything hits him full force, like a tonn of bricks. Of course they knew, he knew they knew. But this still went so… wrong.  


“I want to go home.” Shit. His voice is wavering and he feels like all the air is leaving the room. Shit shit shit!  


Derek’s hand is still hovering above his shoulder when he says: “You should stay here. I’ll leave.” And just like that he’s moving away, walking out of sight, because Stiles is afraid to move to trace him walking away. There’s a click of the door opening and closing and only then Stiles does look up. Derek doesn’t get it, it’s not so much the being left alone, it’s the need to be in his room, somwhere he still considers safe and his, even if there are werewolves breaking in 24/7. But when he looks up and sees that the huge room is empty, he takes a huge gulp of air and nothing is restricting him, and he breathes, feels his heart calming down and almost feels like he can laugh because of how ridiculous his life has become.  


***  


The relative safety of his room? So relative. When he comes back home, after dark, there’s Scott on his bed, looking through a textbook Stiles knows for a fact he’s not even able to understand.  


“You don’t smell happy.” Let’s just cut to the chase, eh, Scotty, why don’t we?  


“Hey, using your nose against me – is a no go. Not fair, man.” Stiles bodily pushes his friend as he squeezes onto the bed beside him, snatching the textbook. “And I’m fine.”  


Scott is looking as glum as he did when Stiles entered the room.  


“I know you didn’t lie just now. But I also know that you just thought up your own definition of “fine” and it isn’t the same as mine.” Screw Scott and his best friend psychic powers.  


“Scott, you are my best friend.” Yeah yeah, low blow – using the best friend card like that, but he can’t deal with it now. Nor ever if he’s completely honest with himself. “I know you worry, but please, don’t. Just… drop it. Please.” He’s not below begging at this point and grudgingly and unwillingly and with a lot of threats to maim derek if Scott finds out he’s hurting Stiles, Scott agrees to not talk about it again.  


***  


Stiles was moderately happy with how things settled. But of course it was time for creature of the week again. Something was sucking the blood out of people and vampires were such an easy solution, but Derek was adamant in saying they don’t exist, so Stiles had to look into it with almost no information and with most of his searches leading to gory Twilight fanfiction. He didn’t really think that people that read Twilight were the ones of the interested in the gory bloody stuff variety… And he was so getting sidetracked. Lydia blew him off when he called: it was time for Jackson to call soon, but Stiles thought he’d give it a try anyway. The part of the Hale library Peter shared didn’t contain anything on blood-sucking monsters and Stiles had to tell himself not to get paranoid and that Peter just didn’t have the need to give him this information, not because he was secretly planning on using this against Stiles once he got to rely on him and his books.  


The internet is never too much help because the creatures capable of such actions range from a chupacabra to sea creatures and dragons, who need blood for the rubies they grow or something, and then there are the less likely cases, but they can’t be dismissed because Stiles is never ignoring anything just in case.  


The pack takes to patrolling the town at turn but bloodless drained corpses keep showing up. There’s no smell on them indicating what could be doing it, they checked: Isaac and Derek sneaked into the morgue while Stiles was distracting the nurses by shamelessly flirting with them. Granted, it made them aww and pinch his cheeks but he was willing to make this sacrifice. Of course, with their luck, Stiles got stopped right before they got to leave the building and dragged for a talk with Melissa. But nothing she could say would convince Stiles to tell his dad. First of all they didn’t even know what the thing killing people this time was, second - no, his dad knowing of the supernatural wouldn’t make him more wary and careful, it would make him dive head first into this hell and get killed without even trying. They had this talk with Scott’s mom, Stiles doesn’t know what she wants and how talking about it again and again can do anything but annoy him, but he’s smiling and chatting a mile a minute, using his ADHD as an excuse to trailing off and skipping to different topics.  


Derek and Isaac are waiting for him outside when he is finally released with a hug and a teary smile from Melissa. Isaac looks guilty and even if Derek’s face is unreadable right now, Stiles knows they both listened in. It’s fine. As long as they don’t try and side with Melissa and don’t ever raise this subject it’s all good.  


Stiles waited long enough, and he hates himself for ehat he’s doing, but he calls Peter. It’s a long wait this time before Peter picks up the phone. It took him seconds before and this does not help in Stiles’ paranoia about Peter being behind this.  


“Is there anything on bloodsuckers in your books?”  


Peter chuckles and Stiles feels like punching something.  


“Oh, there’s a lot. You wouldn’t guess how many creatures have this… bloodlust.”  


Stiles has to restrain himself really really hard not to say that right now Stiles is the one with the bloodlust. Towards Peter. A very very strong bloodlust.  


“Could you bring it all?”  


“Could you ask nicer?” stiles curses.  


“I know we didn’t agree to be superheroes or anything, but there are people dying. Doesn’t it mean anything to you?”  


Stiles isn’t even surprised with the “No, not really.”  


“Well, could you, _please_ , get me the information?”  


“I’ve got a deal for you, Stiles.” This doesn’t sound good at all. “I join the pack – and I tell you right now what it is.”  


***  


Of course Stiles had said no. The first time. After another two deaths he was ready to say anything to stop it and to get this haunted look off his dad’s face. And of course Derek was wrong. Because vampires did exist. They didn’t look like Edward Cullen or Dracula, not even like that chick from Vamp. They were more like Gollum if he had to compare: crouched and skinny and right in front of him, so Derek can suck on that. Because that is honestly the only sucking Stiles is ok with and because the fucking leeches are advancing, cornering him near the bar.  


After Peter told Stiles what they were and emailed him a page on the vampires, it didn’t take long to figure out that they were living in a club. It was a perfect hiding spot and even if it did not explain the corpses allover town, it was a good start. And as happy as Stiles was to be right, he wasn’t ready for the creatures to attack him once he broke into the closed for the day club. What kind of vampires even were they?! Not sleeping when the sun was so high up in the sky! But as the almost blind beasts circled him, swiping their clawed hands and hissing at him, Stiles was ready to admit that he was an idiot for not telling anyone where he went. He didn’t come completely unprepared: he had a cross, he ate a sandwich with lots of garlick on it, it had to count for something and he broke a chair in the bar when the vampires started crawling out, so now he has a piece of wood that could be called sharp if you squinted . Ok, Stiles was ready to admit that he was royally fucked.  


The claws reach him and he flinches back, a gash on his leg starting to bleed, only to step closer to the ones at his back, sinking their claws even deeper and jumping on his back. The vampires hiss and he tries to bat them off, but there are too many and then, when he blocks one from biting his neck, it sinks its teeth into his arm. In no universe did he picture dying like this: swarmed by an army of half-blind vampires.  


There’s a terrible sound like something is breaking and Stiles has a moment to think that it must be his head, because he just got dragged down and hit it, feeling at least two more bites at his body parts; then there’s bright light and that’s one more thing he didn’t expect – never thought these “light at the end of a tunnel” stories were true. But then the vampires are fleeing, screeching, leaving him on the floor, in a circle of light. There’s a barked “Stay there!” in Derek’s voice and Stiles curses and mutters that he’s not stupid and that he can stay in the light without orders until the door, broken off its hinges, flies almost all the way across to Stiles and there’s Boyd running in, Derek right behind him and Peter, leisurely walking in, looking like it’s the last place he’d rather be.  


“Fuck… Stiles!”  


“What?!” Derek squats down beside him and tugs at his wrist, returning Stiles to reality and all the pain. Crap. “I don’t want to turn into one of those.”  


“No shit.” The reality of the situation didn’t hit yet and Stiles doesn’t want to think about becoming a vampire if he’s completely honest.  


“Vampires exist.” Is the next thing he says and Derek just sighs and lets go. He orderes the teen to stay, again, and then, after looking at Boyd and Peter, who follow him, goes down to the basement, tracking the fleeing vampires.  
Stiles guesses he’s in shock, because he doesn’t worry, just examines his bleeding wounds and tries to lick the blood from his knuckles, to taste if he likes it, but then decides that there is this slim chance that the vampires’ blood is somwhere mixed up with his and he doesn’t want to help the whole turning process, so he just waits. Staying in the sun, crawling after its rays when it moves further. At least he’s not frying yet, that has to be a good sign.  


He’s wiped a good part of the bar’s floor with his butt by the time Derek and co come back. They’re covered in gory disgusting stuff and Derek is still wolfed out. If they weren’t on Stiles’ side he’d be shitting his pants right about now.  


“Did you kill them kill them? Did you kill the mama vamp? Was there a mama vamp? How do these vampires even work? Is it like a pack? Did you have to gut them like that? All the movies make it clear you use the sun. Except for Twilight. Did you watch Twilight?..”  


“He’s alright.” Smirks Peter and Stiles huffs, making Boyd laugh.  


***  


The next pack meeting is more of a vampire movies 101 Stilinski style. Attendance and snacks are mandatory. They’re doing the classics, none of this modern remake crap: both Fright Nights, Vamp, the Lost Boys. They have to order takeout two times and everyone’s full, culturally educated and happy. Stiles is still shoving his bandaged hands in the faces of the weres closest to him, trying to get them to give him more food but werewolves are huge pizza-hoggers, and chips-hoggers and anything food-hoggers and obviously have no compassion to the injured.  


It’s late when the last of them leave. Scott looks unhappy to leave Stiles with Derek but Stiles doesn’t want to go home and he’s too deep in his food coma to care about anything. Stiles contemplates his choices.  
“Hey, we could watch the new Fright Night? It’s not that bad actually. It has McLovin and Chekov from Star Trek… do you know Star Trek? Because-”  


“They’re your pack…” Derek’s voice is small and a mix of disbelieveing, shocked and hurt. Or Stiles thinks it’s that. That’s just such bullshit and Derek was sounding small and vulnerable and “What the hell?”  


“They’re not my pack, Stiles. The way you handled the vampires,” Stiles interjects with a comment about it going badly, but Derek just won’t listen or stop talking. “You found out about them, you found their lair, Peter came to me because you asked him to bring backup…” Peter was a fucking manipulator but Stiles would deal with that later. There was something Derek was trying to say with all of this but he just couldn’t quite get it.  


“I never managed to make Scott my beta and you just… here he is, with the pack. They’re all happy and healthy and I wasn’t there to make it happen. You were. You did this and you can take care of them so much better than I can.” Ok, the compliments definitely mean the end of the world. “I’m not needed here. I’m leaving.”  


Oh. Of course. He should’ve guessed. Stiles grits his teeth, brows furrowing, and in one movement stardles Derek on the couch. He holds his face in place a bit more rough than he usually would and presses a biting kiss to his lips. Derek struggles weakly and mutters protests at first. But Stiles kisses him until he shuts up, bites his lips and tongue, scrapes his teeth along Derek’s jawline. He is so mad. He’s thrumming with pent up anger, letting his hands be rough and bruising, Derek won’t have a single mark to remind of it later, letting his teeth to bite until Derek moans half pain – half pleasure.

Stiles stands up and moves Derek’s legs apart, crouching between them, slapping the man’s hands away when he tries to touch him and when then instead he goes for the button of his jeans. Stiles does everything himself, pulling Derek, half hard, out, licking and mouthing at the shaft until Derek’s hips are making little jerked movements and the muscles in his thighs are flexing, restrainign himself. Stiles presses on them, keeping Derek as still as possible with his human strength and sinks down, wrapping his lips around the tip and swallowing all the way until there are pubic hair tickling his nose.

Derek tries to obey and stay still but his hips thrust forward and he whimpers as Stiles humms around his cock, pressing even stronger, forcing him down. Stiles sets the pace, pulling off whenever Derek is getting close. The werewolf’s hands are hovering above Stiles’ head but he doesn’t touch. Stiles smirks at him and laps at the beads of precome, watching Derek throw his head back baring his neck, feeling him thrumming under his hands.

He pulls away, making Derek dirty his stupid henley with come. While Derek is still boneless and exhausted, unable to even move properly, Stiles gets up, rearranges himself (him getting almost fully hard wasn’t the plan here but he couldn’t help it, having Derek at his mercy like that), and without looking back practically runs for the door.

“I’m going home. You can return me the DVDs later.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote the whole fic ages ago so I'm not sure right now how horrible that was. But I don't want to reread it and figure out I don't want it posted.  
> Next chapter will be up soon!


	4. (But then) promises don't mean anything anymore...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“The kids think we’re getting a divorce and made us a parent trap thingy with dinner and candles.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> forever unbetaed.  
> there is some Stiles/OFC here. But it's not the main focus. Nothing graphic. If you want to know beforehand (if there are some things you won't like seeing which could make you stop reading) there's more about it in the notes at the end of the chapter.

Stiles can’t believe himself, he just ignored a call from Derek. For a moment he thinks that it could be something urgent and maybe someone’s in danger. But if it really was that serious, someone else would call him in a bit but the phone stayed silent. Stiles worries and fidgets, impatient and nervous, for the next ten minutes and then sends text messages to everyone in the pack. He goes for a casual enough “Movie night tonight?” And when he gets all the replies he has to send more texts again, cancelling. But at least he knows the pack is ok. So it was ok to ignore Derek.

To be completely honest, he’s afraid, that if Derek gets a chance to talk to him, he’ll make excuses for himself to leave and won’t listen to reason or anything Stiles has to say, easily cutting him off on the phone. Stiles doesn’t know if he would mind right now, because he’s not sure he cares if Derek leaves and that’s a horrible thought so he pushes it away. But the pack, he knows they would be devastated, the wolves more than the people, but it would be bad for everyone. He can’t let Derek leave and he can’t have sex with him to distract him every time. So for the next week Stiles ignores calls and texts, there weren’t many but even a couple is a lot from Derek. The boy drives by Derek’s apartment, checking if Derek’s car is still there. He almost gets a panic attack when it’s not in its usual place, and then he waits, like the worst stalker in the history of stalking, powering through panic and fright, until the camaro shows on the road. He doesn’t stay, drives away as fast as his jeep would let him and hides inside his room, door locked and the blinds drawn, for the next few hours.

The Martin country house isn’t very far from Beacon Hills, the pack already used it once, while hunting down faeries, using the vacated house to contain the magical creatures there. And now Stiles is on his way there, bag packed with all the stuff he thought they might need: mountain ash, wolfsbane, some of his personal mixes for spells, etc. He got a call from Isaac, saying they need him there for an emergency meeting. And when he called back for an explanation, a clearer idea on what they’re going to be dealing with, Isaac’s phone redirected him to voice mail. As did Scott’s and Lydia’s. And Stiles really didn’t have a lot of time just to prove to himself that nobody would pick up.  


It’s approximately a one hour drive and Stiles is there even earlier, breaking some speed limit rules, but it’s getting dark already, the woods around the mansion making the darkness even more intense and creepy. So what, he already has at least five theories on what they’re dealing with and the dark house without a shred of light doesn’t help to discharge the theory of an electricity-consuming monster, that would explain all the phones going offliine so well.

Stiles really needs to get a gun. His dad taught him how to use one a long time ago and that’s one thing he isn’t a clutz with, but the only source that won’t make him spend all of his money end end up still owing half the amount, or ending up at his father’s office for trying to buy it from one of his undercover deputies (something like that happened when he was eleven and then it was adorable, now, with his father thinking he’s in a gang or a cult, not so much); were the Argents, but Allison wouldn’t cooperate and he doesn’t want to talk to Chris. So, armed with powder and flowers he’s entering the seemingly empty house.

There’s a light flickering somewhere in the distance and Stiles has no choice but to go and see what’s the source of it and hope he has fast enough reflexes and that everyone’s ok. There’s a loud bang behind him and a roar. Stiles spinns around, hitting a wall with his shoulder but not falling and blows the wolfsbane in his right hand at the attacker. The werewolf chokes and coughs, his face shifting to human and falls face-first on the floor. It’s Derek.

“Crap…”

***

The wolfsbane isn’t the deadly kind, it’ll just leave Derek powerless and weak for a couple of hours, maybe give him a headache. He spends a couple of seconds debating if he should move Derek out of the way at least, but first he needs to check what was attacking the pack. Good job on taking down your own team, Stiles, he scolds himself as he’s walking fast towards the source of light in the house. He needs to act fast hoping that the element of surprise would give him some points. He runs into the room with a yell, stopping in the middle and shouting some more, angry and frustrated at what he sees.

Stiles curses loudly and stomps back to Derek’s unmoving form. He pokes his cheek with a finger and then turns him around, hauling the man into a sitting position, looping his arms under Derek’s armpits and dragging him to the room with the candles. And the dinner. And the wine. The pack was creative in getting them both there he’ll give them that. And then he’ll bloody murder them all.

After making Derek hit his face against the floor two more times Stiles gives up on attempts to drag him onto the couch and just leaves him laying beside it. He walks to the table and picks up the note left in the flowers. Flowers! There’s a:

_“Sorry if I was unsupportive. I’m happy if you’re happy and you should date him.”_ from Scott and a:

_“Kiss and make up. Your drama stopped being entertaining two days in.”_ in Lydia’s neat handwriting.

Stiles blows down the candles and switches on the light. He waits for Derek to wake up for about twenty minutes but then starts picking at the food, slowly ending up eating all of his share and some of Derek’s and he’s contemplating taking a nap, when Derek stirs, groaning. Stiles doesn’t move towards him, just in case. Even without the werewolf strength he can land a mean punch and it isn’t Stiles’ fault he thought Derek was attacking him. Maybe he should’ve left Derek more food, food makes everything better…

“The kids think we’re getting a divorce and made us a parent trap thingy with dinner and candles. I can light them again if you want.”

“We’re not getting a divorce.” Derek rubs at his head and yep, that’s a headache right there.

“Of course no, because there’s nothing going on between us. Come on, the food is cold and the wine is something expensive. I can’t appreciate it fully but the gesture was nice.”

Derek looks up at him like he got punched in the gut and Stiles squirms in place, looking back to his plate. They eat in uncomfortable silence, Stiles trying to fill it with chatter but it dies quickly on his tongue. Derek ran all the way here, the pack really put a lot of thought into this, sending Derek a text so he wouldn’t detect a lie, sending it about half an hour later than calling Stiles so they would come approximately at the same time. They didn’t think Stiles would knock out Derek though, he’s sure of that. So because Derek was out of his wolf mojo and without a car, they spent another hour together, silent and uncomfortable, in a closed space, together. As they were passing the “You’re entering Beacon Hills” sign, Stiles finally decided that he has to bring up the whole reason why the pack acted like they did.

“You don’t have a right to leave. Try to run – I’ll track you down, knock you out, bind you with chains drenched in aconite and drag you home.” Derek doesn’t even turn to look at him, staring out the window, but Stiles knows he’s listening. The next thing he says comes as a surprise to Stiles himself, but somewhere inside he knew that he was going to do it. “I’m not sleeping with you any more. It’s not… right. And it’s not what should be keeping you here. You have a pack you need to be taking care of and I’m interfering with your focus.”

Derek is silent and still and this is unbearable.

“Do you get me, Derek?!”

Derek bites out a “Yes” and that’s all.

“We’ll pretend to be together though, you get that?”

“Yes, Stiles.” Derek sounds so irritated when it’s Stiles who should be angry and snipping instead.

“I’ll stay after meetings and spend time with you but no more fucking.”

“Yes, Stiles, I got that!” Derek’s eyes flash red and he’s looking straight at Stiles, panting like he’d run a marathon. “Let me out, I’ll walk the rest of the way myself.”

“I’ll take you home.”

“Let me out, Stiles.”

“You’re not walking alone through the woods with half your powers off. I’m taking you home, Derek. And the kids will probably check to see if we did make up. It’ll look good.”

Derek mutters something Stiles doesn’t hear and turns to stare out the window again. Great, just great.

***

It’s two days later when Stiles gets an identical call from Isaac but this time he asks him to come to Derek’s apartment. Stiles doesn’t even bother with calling Scott or the other traitorous bastards and calls Derek.

“You should come.” Is all he gets before Derek hangs up on him. At least his voice is calm enough for Stiles to know there’s no threat. But that’s it. No explanation or anything. He’s making them all pay for the gas if this keeps up.

This time there seem to be no secret romantic dinner arrangements, instead the whole pack is there, crowded around the couch, chatting excitedly when Stiles enters. Almost nobody is turning to look at him and what the hell? But then one head does turn to look at him, the one, between Lydia’s strawberry blonde curly head and Danny’s dark haired one. Stiles’ eyes must become the size of saucers and he gapes, practically running up to the couch and around it to look down at Jackson, the pack gathered around him, Lydia and Danny practically glued to him.

Hugging really isn’t their thing with Jackson, but it looks really tempting and, hell, he didn’t see the dude in what, more than half a year!  


“Still a douche?” asks the teen instead. Jackson looks like he is desperately trying not to roll his eyes, but also a little bit fond (or Stiles is imagining the look on him but he doesn’t care too much).

“Still a moron?” That’s Stiles’ queue and he practically jumps on Jackson, elbowing Danny and almost hitting Lydia in his attempts to grab at Jackson. The dude’s a douche and a jerk, but he’s their douche. Stiles is rubbing his cheek against Jackson’s cheek, thinking about scent marking and all this werewolf stuff that should be significant to the pack. He’s rather unceremoniously and roughly pushed off after a bit and someone, Derek, helps him get up and then constricts his movements by glueing himself to Stiles’ back and holding the young man in the vice grip of his arms.

“I didn’t believe when everyone told me and when Derek reeked of you, but shit… I’m not calling you mom, Stilinski.”

“Shove it, Jackson.”

Stiles and Jackson start bickering with different members of the pack siding with either of them while Boyd, always the practical one, orders food. It’s late when they have to leave and Jackson still isn’t done answering questions and getting answers about the pack and what they were up to without him, but it’s so good. So good to have everyone back again. Stiles can’t help but think about Erica, and he knows he’s not the only one, but it’s a happy moment and nobody wants to ruin it. The half year mark for her death has passed but now that Jackson is back, they will honor her death in a special way only pack can. Stiles mutters “Good to have you back” quietly. And even if every werewolf caught it, they pretend not to hear him, except for Jackson, who gives him a tiny smile and nods, before throwing an arm around Danny’s shoulder and taking Lydia’s hand, leaving the building.

***

Stiles is nervous about staying at Derek’s but after the pack leaves Derek walks into the kitchen and quietly, never turning to look at Stiles even once, makes tea for two. He leaves Stiles’ mug on the counter and walks past him with his own upstairs. This is all so bizarre and weird and Stiles could be kissing him right now, but that would make all his efforts nil so Stiles just watches Derek’s back. All of a sudden Derek stops and turns around in the middle of the spiral staircase.

“You should take the bed. Just tell me when you want to go sleep and I’ll get down.”

Stiles opens his mouth to protest that they still can share a bed, but stops himself in time. It must be awkward for Derek and he’s thinking ahead opposed to Stiles. Every idea Stiles had up till now ended up in various degrees of bad and horrible, so he nods and, taking his tea, flops on the couch, switching through channels without paying the slightest attention to the shows and movies that are on. Derek really lets him use the bed and it feels weird, lying there all alone, sheets smelling like Derek and knowing the man himself is down there on the couch, hearing him twist and turn, sleep not coming.

It’s easy to set a pattern after this and it isn’t half as horrible as Stiles thought it would be. There is another problem now instead though.  


“I really gotta get home today.” The even if dad doesn’t talk to me, I want him to know I’m home at night goes unsaid. Stiles points back in Scott’s direction and tries to move away from Derek’s arms, tight around him, the man pressed flush against Stiles, holding him in place.  


“Just a second.” Stiles hears Scott make puking noises in the back and with an “I’ll wait for you in the car” he runs off, but not before Derek gets to lean in even closer and kiss Stiles on the mouth, trying to turn it wet and filthy instantly. He does it all the time now. They never were strong on PDA but now it’s all Derek does: he drags Stiles into his lap when they’re watching movies, he’s holding his hand whenever they’re close enough, he kisses him on the cheek at random points in time and whenever Stiles can’t stay at his place he makes the whole pack watch them suck face and last time there was some heavy grinding ending in Scott’s mental breakdown. Stiles isn’t even sure if it’s all to piss off Scott or some weird form of revenge on Stiles. The worst part is he still gets aroused, reacting to Derek’s body and hot press of skin on skin like a Pavlovian dog.

Scott hears every movement, even if he doesn’t want to and tries to tune it out, but when he freaks out he is in very poor control of his wolf powers, so Stiles kisses back anyway, letting Derek’s tongue swipe against his, lick into his mouth, moaning lightly when Derek tightens his grip. He doesn’t regret stopping the thing between them, it was wrong from the start, but damn… he does regret it. One of Derek’s hot palms squeezes his ass and Stiles is starting to get hard so he physically pushes Derek away and Derek lets him, damn right he lets him. Of course he lets him.

“Ok, bye.” Is said from outside the door, Stiles making his hasty retreat. Scott scrunches his nose when Stiles gets out and walks over to him. At first Scott used to complain about the constant lingering smell of sex coming from Stiles whenever Derek was around, but he quickly got that it was a moot point and wasn’t up for discussion so now he just makes funny disgusted faces and freaks out if Derek’s groping gets out of hand.

Stiles isn’t sure if what’s happening now hurts more than when they were having sex in addition to pretending to be in a relationship. Stiles isn’t charitable and isn’t a saint – he was doing it for the pack, yeah, but he would never agree to it if some part of him wasn’t ok with what happened. Of course it wasn’t ideal, it wasn’t Derek from his phone calls, it wasn’t how he imagined it happening, not what he thought his first time would be, not what he imagined a relationship being like. But not everybody could have fairytale romances like Lydia and Jackson or a star-crossed lovers thing going for them like Allison and Scott. Stiles had a porny no strings attached version of a fairytale and if he started thinking about regretting it, he just told himself that there was no way to turn back time so there was no use in dwelling on it.

***

It’s not ideal, he still has school and the exams are piling by the end of the school year, the Derek situation is keeping him in a state of constant confusion and arousal, and a lot of anger which can’t be good for his mental health, the pack that was checking out the borders of Derek’s pack isn’t doing anything incriminating, but they enter town at random times and never stay long enough for a member of Derek’s pack to meet them. It’s not necessarily bad, but it’s weird. So when Stiles sees Peter talking to his dad in the middle of day in a grocery store, the boy loses it and is too late to stop himself and shut up in time. It’s like he’s watching his own body from above, taking long strides towards the two men, talking by the carrots, and sees himself yank Peter by the arm, almost yelling.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” and isn’t it nice that his out of body experience ends here and he’s left with the consequences. Stiles doesn’t want to, but he steals a glance at his father, who’s staring in shock and confusion, not even angry, just confused. Stiles lets go of the werewolf’s arm and takes a step back. “Hi… dad. Where do you know-”

“We were talking about healthy food and the sheriff was telling me about this special thick vegetable soup of yours. I’m guessing you’re his son, right? You share this resemblance…”

Stiles knows he’s screwing himself over when out of habit he answers with a snark and “I wasn’t asking you.”

“I believe it should be me asking where do you know this man from and why are you speaking like that, Stiles.”

“And I believe, I should go. Wouldn’t want to get between you two.” Peter’s smiling and Stiles wants nothing more than to shove a fist full of wolfsbane into his face, but he can’t look away from his dad. Not now. He has no idea what to do, not a slightest guess. His father looks unsure, like he wants to stop Peter and drag them both to the police department and doesn’t want to let them out without getting answers, but this isn’t in his powers so he’s looking back to Stiles, Stiles who doesn’t have an explanation for this that won’t involve the truth, or one that wouldn’t make him look like he’s in a gang.

“I’ve been patient with you, son,” the sheriff realizes he’s holding a carrot in his hand and throws it back to the other carrots with a bit more force than necessary. “But this was… I don’t even know you anymore. I want to believe you when you say it’s ok and you’re fine, but I can’t, Stiles.” There’s a woman side-eyeing them, probably wanting to get to the vegetable isle and the sheriff takes his son by the elbow and leads him further into the shop. “I need answers, Stiles. I can’t protect you when I don’t know what’s going on.”

And isn’t that even worse. After everything, after all that’s happened, dad still thinks about him first. Stiles doesn’t want his dad to ever find out about all the monsters that he had to deal with and will probably have to deal with in the future, but maybe that’s it? Maybe there’s no way out anymore? But he needs to tell the pack first. He’s… he’s telling his dad.

“Tomorrow. Can I… tomorrow, please? I’ll… tell you everything then.”

His dad looks scared and a little bit relieved. His tiny smile isn’t as bright and radiant, but it’s a bit of the old dad shining through the last past months of lies and ignoring each other and Stiles can’t help his own smile.

“Tomorrow. No excuses.”

You know, how teachers love to say that your only excuse to not attend their class is death (Or was it only Harris?)? Does almost getting killed count? And does this system even work out of school?

***

Stiles wakes up hurting everywhere, with a desert in his mouth, staring up at a white ceiling and hearing methodical beeping and whirring of machines. He can’t really move anything, not even his head, and this isn’t very reassuring. His first thought is about mom, when she was in this place and he spent hours sitting beside her, blabbering non-stop. But thinking hurts too, and those memories aren’t bad, but they’re not good either. And he needs to start figuring out why the hell he can’t move a limb. He doesn’t get the choice over his actions though, when the door slams open and Scott’s worried face is hovering above his in a second.

“Dude! We were so worried!” Stiles cringes from the shouting and Scott mirrors his expression. “Dude, you were out of it for days! And you were like, thrashing around and harming your arm and neck, dude, they’re like broken! Not your neck, if it’d break you’d be dead. I think… Your dad just left, shit, he’ll be angry that he wasn’t there for you waking up! Oh, man, he left because after what that pack did, we-”  


Stiles has a fleeting thought about people not catching up with his chattering, but one thing at a time, if he starts thinking – he’ll lose train of thought here. The moment the word-vomit starts becoming interesting, the door is opening again, Stiles can tell by the light, seeping in, and Scott is yanked out of his vision, Melissa’s gentle voice scolding her son. Stiles doesn’t even protest when miss McCall shoves Scott out the door, he’ll regret it later but now he isn’t in a good state to receive information.

Melissa talks slowly, calmly, with measured words and then there are more nurses and a doctor, unstrapping Stiles from the bed, shining a light into his eyes, telling him about his car crash in brief, about the concussion, about his arm and neck, the plastic cast around Stiles’ neck is uncomfortable but the doctor says they could change it later. For now Stiles gets a direct line of some drug into his bloodstream and he’s falling asleep before the doctor even leaves the room.

The next time Stiles wakes up he really wants to ask for more drugs for his pain and regrets the moment he let Melissa shoo Scott out when he sees his dad, asleep in a chair beside the wall. His father looks so tired and worn out. Stiles remembers Scott saying something about him not leaving Stiles’ side, and this probably continued after that too. Stiles strains to remember what Scott told about that other pack and what happened but his memories are fuzzy.

Stiles spends the next half an hour, or a few minutes, he doesn’t know, looking at his dad and when the man starts to stir, Stiles pretends to be asleep. He needs to talk to Scott first. It’s not Scott, though, entering the small room the moment his father leaves.

“Water.” Is what Stiles rasps instead of a greeting and Isaac rushes to the pitcher, pouring Stiles the water and not wasting time, talking at the same time, ignoring the greetings too.

“Your car was hit by that pack’s. They went for you because you’re the… alpha’s mate. You were out for three days. After that almost one more. We take turns in the hospital. We killed that pack. That’s why your dad had to leave you that time you woke up. Remember?”

Stiles nods and holds out his glass for more water. The teen is drinking again, mind whirring into action, trying to make sense of everything and add the details that Isaac has no time to tell him. Isaac touches the upper arm of his left broken hand, veins coloring black instantly, sucking some of the pain away and maybe it’s not the best decision for now, but Stiles doesn’t resist. It feels too good.

“Your father will be back soon. I should go. Derek will be the next on duty, he’ll be happy to know you’re awake.”

With that Isaac leaves and Stiles is left to process everything he heard and think up the details by himself. At least there’s one thing he knows for sure now – he was an idiot to think that he could tell his dad about the supernatural. The moment he gets involved – he’ll become a target. Stiles sighs, recalling Isaac’s words: an alpha’s mate. This was so not what he needed in his life right now. Not ever, actually… 

The first thing his dad does is hug him, trying to be careful and avoid hurting Stiles. The boy returns the embrace the best he can, hugging his father back with one arm. There’s one more look they share as father and son and then in a blink of an eye it’s the sheriff, straightening up and looking down at him. He hasn’t received this stare in a while.

“I won’t accept a lie this time, Stiles.” The boy stays silent, chewing on the inside of his cheek and looking at the wall over his father’s right shoulder. “You can’t lie to me any more, Stiles. If I don’t hear an explanation why the owner of the car that hit you and a group of people who were with him are now dead, or why Peter Hale is alive and well and obviously in some kind of relationship with you, I swear to god, I’m making you leave town. There’re other schools, where you won’t get in danger just by walking out the door.”

Stiles can’t bring himself to look into his father’s eyes. He’s far away right now, trying to form a plan, trying to think up a lie good enough to be a cover story for all of this. The silence in the room is filling up with all the tiny noises and his own pulse is loud in his ears. His real name makes Stiles come back to reality, finally snapping his eyes to his father, tired and scared. And all of this - because of Stiles.

There has to be another way, there has to be a solution. If he’d just have one more minute, one more second, it’ll come to him. He just-  


Stiles sighs and gulps heavily, bracing himself.

“Dad, I…”

***

The neck brace was uncomfortable and the cast on his hand was an inconvenience and because Stiles had a concussion he now had to take his exams with the students who couldn’t get it right the first time. And, just in case, he was assigned a tutor. From his own grade. Who was supposed to come over to his house twenty minutes ago. And timing was very important: there was a pack meeting he really hoped to attend in this century.

Speaking of pack meetings, except for taking away the pain, Derek wasn’t even talking to him. He didn’t even visit him in the hospital. The whole lovers act was dropped and if Stiles had to guess he’d say Derek might have felt guilt for what happened. And that was a weird enough thought that he preferred to leave it aside. Derek did ask him out to prom, probably to keep up appearances. But Stiles was adamant in saying that prom was for people who passed their exams and were now happy and free, and for people who didn’t wear neck braces as a fashion statement. He didn’t say that he wasn’t allowed to go anywhere by his father, but the reasons he voiced were true too so they didn’t sound like a lie.

The doorbell rang making Stiles instantly jump to his feet and rush for the door. His tutor appeared to be Jennifer. They had a lot of advanced classes together and he supposed her grades only went up because he wasn’t there to beat her to second place. Stiles still didn’t get why Lydia couldn’t be assigned to be his tutor. This would be so much better.

“Are you going to let me in or not?”

Stiles jerked in place, stepping away and welcoming the girl in. He offers her something to drink and she has the nerve to ask for coffee. He’s disabled, ok? He shouldn’t be making coffee for an unnecessary tutor, who arrives late on top of it all. He was just being polite for god’s sake.

“You know I’m going to do perfect without your help.” Stiles sets the mug in front of her. He’s very tempted to pour himself a bit of coffee, but he knows how it tends to affect him so he just has to be content with the smell. “I’ve got things to do. Before my father comes back from work. So how about you drink your coffee and spend the hours you were supposed to spend with me in a mall or doing some stuff you’d rather do?”

Jennifer tugs a strand of hair behind an ear and makes a sip.

“I don’t care. As long as you get a good grade and I get my bonus credit for helping out.”

Stiles can’t help but gape at her.

“Wow, you’re so nice, I had no idea.”

“I wasn’t the one that told me to get out of their house.”

Stiles narrows his eyes and slowly sits down across from the girl. Making coffee with one arm takes time, and then there are the twenty minutes he already lost. And the feeling he gets when Derek no longer touches him or kisses him, like they really went through a bad breakup. He doesn’t have to be at every meeting, does he? If there’s something dangerous, he’ll get a warning…

“You know what?” He’s not sure if he’s feeling lighter or is everything just becoming worse, but he smiles at the girl. “I could use a break. Let’s study.”

“Your idea of a break is studying? Really?” Jennifer pulls a face and Stiles mimics it, exaggerating the expression.

“My life is horrible, what can I say.”

***

They don’t study in the end. Nor do they study any other time Jen comes over, always “fashionably” late, as she puts it. She shares the rumors circling around the school about the pack. They’re surprisingly tame and mostly center around cults and orgies. Stiles laughs and asks her if she’d believe they were werewolves and she laughs with him, discarding the words as a joke and it feels good.

Jennifer likes the same movies and TV shows he does, she’s funny and not too sarcastic to be a bitch. His father seems more happy when Stiles is hanging out with her and seeing his father smiling is so rare that he starts inviting her over when his father is at home. He likes their time together not burdened with the weird tension of people being able to smell and know what you’re feeling. He likes to pretend he’s normal when he’s with her. And even if he knows he’s living a lie, that he still goes to pack meetings, that his best friend turns all hairy whenever there’s a full moon, it feels so good to know someone who still isn’t corrupted by this world he lives in. She introduces him to her friends and their biggest problems are homework and larping, not encounters with death every other week.

Before the last exam she tells him that there’ll be a party at Mike’s at the end of the week. And Mike’s house has a pool. Of course Stiles agrees, only later remembering that the weekend is supposed to be pack time. Maybe he can do both? Go spend some time with Scott, Derek and everybody else, and then go to the pool party? Maybe he could ask Jennifer if he could bring his cult-mates there too. He’s still got plenty of time for that anyway.

He passes the test, of course he does, and, for some reason, he doesn’t know why, he doesn’t want to think about it, Stiles spends the day with the pack out in the forest and then tells them he has to go. Nobody questions him because they know he’s on a tight rope with his dad right now and Stiles waits for someone to call him out on his lie, to follow his car, to storm into Mike’s house and drag him out, but he’s on his second beer, among humans who can get drunk and are busy with exactly that, somebody shouting something about skinny-dipping already, and Derek isn’t there to drag him away from his second life. Maybe he knows what Stiles is doing? Maybe he just wants him to have this bit of normality?

His thoughts are disturbed by Annie taking him by the hand and dragging him from the stairs and into the house, where a group of people is playing the get the coin into the glass game, making shots and cheering loudly. And who even cares what Derek knows or doesn’t know? Maybe Stiles will get a scolding tomorrow, early in the morning, when his hangover is the worst, but he decides he doesn’t care right now, grabbing the bottle and a glass and pouring himself a shot of vodka.

Stiles is sitting outside again, he escaped the truth or dare lying that he needed to use the restroom. It’s a warm summer night and the music is dulled by the closed door, and he’s had enough to get sentimental. Stiles doesn’t want that so he makes a huge gulp from the whiskey bottle he sneaked out. The door to the backyard opens, making everything bright and noisy for a moment and then it’s back to the muffled noises and Michael Bolton singing about the Pirates of the Carribean.

Jenny sits beside him, stealing the bottle and taking a sip. Stiles gives her a dopey smile which she returns just as drunkenly and enthusiastically.

“Stiles?”

“Yeah?” The teen giggles and tries to make his face look serious, only laughing more because of it. Jennifer punches him in the arm, but she’s laughing too.

“Do you want to go out with me?” Stiles falls over, laughing, but Jenny is still and isn’t laughing with him so Stiles raises on his elbow, searching her eyes.

“Is it a joke?” He’s sober in a second. This kind of sucks. His mind makes him remember everything that happened since he started hanging out with the girl and the main change was him ignoring the pack. Was she a creature, aiming to hurt his pack? Was she going to kill him now? Why the hell did she ask this? “Did Jackson put you up to this? Did he pay you?”

That was a plausible option too. Jackson was a dick, no matter what, so maybe he wanted to prove that the pack had one human too much? Stiles’ mind was whirring, in overload.

“Forget I asked.”

Stiles’ eyes are bugging out and he’s sitting straight, holding the girl by her upper arm, just in case.

“You’re serious? You… want to date me?” She’s staring at him like he’s an idiot and maybe he is. “Yes, yeah. Yes, si, da. Is the question still open for discussion? Because I’d love to date you.”

Jennifer is sitting with a stern expression, but there’s a smile creeping onto her face and then she’s snorting and nodding. Stiles must still be drunk because there was no reason to agree. But this way he’ll have a better chance of monitoring her for the pack… He leans over and plants a kiss on her cheek, to which she pushes him in the chest and gives him a chaste kiss on the lips in return.

They hold hands, taking turns at drinking from the bottle, later migrating to the pool and hanging their feet down, the water cool against their skin. Stiles smiles but his heart is beating at a frantic pace, alcohol not working any more. The panic stays with him when he’s taking her home the next day, they all stayed at Mike’s for the night; when he’s kissing her goodbye, when he’s making himself tea at home, when he’s dialing his father’s number to let him know he’s home, when he receives a text message from Jennifer. He’s nervous, panicky and on edge for two days, waiting for someone to confront him and stop him, to tell him that what he’s doing is wrong and he knows it. He’s waiting to find Derek in his room, commanding him to stop this and to come back to him.

None of this happens and then he’s driving to Derek’s loft, heart hammering inside his ribcage, feeling like every move he does is wrong, but with no one there to stop him, unable to do so himself.

The pack meeting is nothing but a loud messy lunch with arguing over which movie are they going to watch. Nobody seems to pay too much attention to Stiles and his state. At least he thinks so, until Peter slides into the couch beside him and uses a sweet voice to quietly ask: “Anything you wanted to tell us?” Bringing everyone’s attention to the two of them.

Stiles can’t help the nervous laugh escaping him, nor his palms from getting sweaty and his foot from starting to jump up and down, a sure tell he’s nervous.

“Nothing, I-” shit. He should’ve thought this through. He should’ve told Derek and they would’ve decided how to deal with it… “It’s over.” Crap, crap, crap. “Me and Derek – it’s been over for a while now.” He’s not looking at anyone, just staring at his hands, feeling the silence consume him.

“It’s none of your business, actually, but I just thought I’d… I’m dating Jennifer, you know, Jennifer from school. And she’s great and it’s still none of your business but she asked me out a couple of days ago and I said yes. If anyone has any objections you can submit them in written form to my mailbox so I could burn them.” Instead of shouting at him or accusing him, everybody in the room is quiet and Stiles can’t take it. This is not how it should’ve gone, this is wrong, everything is wrong.

He gets up and rushes for the door.

“I’ll… see you!” is what he shouts out before running down the flights of stairs and straight for his jeep. Right now he doesn’t know what he’s doing even more than when he decided he’d help the pack come together or when he started sleeping with Derek. He’s panicking and his time is running out and he just wants everything to stop, to rewind time to somewhere in the past when everything wasn’t so complicated. He just wants something to be simple and easy in his life. Is it too much to ask for?

***

It’s subtle at first, but it becomes more obvious with time: the pack is ignoring him. He doesn’t get calls and isn’t invited to meet up any more, and if Jackson would always ignore him if he saw him, Isaac or Boyd would still wave or smile at him. Not any more they didn’t. Lydia sends him the iciest glare in the history of glares before pushing past him and Jenny, shoving her with a shoulder. Stiles wonders if Allison felt the same way he does, when she isolated herself from them and got blamed for everything, starting with trying to kill Derek and ending with going away and being called a coward.

The funniest thing is that Derek himself doesn’t act that way. He nods at him in the grocery store if they accidentally meet there, he is the only one still sending him texts about meetings, keeping him informed. And this is maybe even worse than how the rest of the pack acts.

Summer days are long and bright but they’re running out and Stiles is almost out of time. He doesn’t want this with the pack but he doesn’t know how to make it better. His relationship with Jennifer is getting worse too and he tries to do something, because it was the only positive thing in his life, but it’s not as fun and carefree as when they started and it’s all his fault.

But Stiles tries. Today Stiles is taking his girlfriend out for milkshakes and he’s going to be gallant and sweet, he’ll make sure they won’t meet any member of the pack and they’ll spend the day together, having fun. His plan is ruined the moment they walk into the main square.

“Stilinski!” The teen flinches and never he wanted to run away more than in this moment, but Jenny is already turning around, so he does too, and maybe he should’ve listened to instinct, because Jackson’s fist painfully collides with his face. The werewolf strength makes Stiles fall over but Jackson is there, dragging him up again. It’s a good thing he’s out of the neck brace because he fell over with it a couple of times and it wasn’t pleasant. Jennifer is yelling something, hitting Jackson on the arm, Jackson growling at the both of them, causing a commotion.

“What the hell is wrong with you?! What about Derek?!” Stiles tries to get free but he doesn’t stand a chance against Jackson and he’s afraid the boy could wolf out in front of everybody, so he just tries to calm his girlfriend down, but she’s already listening, interest spiked up by Jackson’s words.

“What is wrong with _you_? There’s nothing between me and Derek.” Stiles’ whispering means nothing when Jackson yells the next words.

“Fuck you! He’s so much more angry than he usually is! I know he asked you to come to meetings! Why didn’t you?!”

“Please, not now, Jackson…”

“No, now!”

“Derek..?” Stiles looks to Jennifer, trying to think of something to tell her. Trying to think up an idea of distracting her, of making her leave.

“DEREK, HIS BOYFRIEND! Maybe you’ve heard of him?” Stiles becomes numb, mortified, eyes coming back to Jackson’s face, now more lost than angry. “I don’t understand why you’re doing it, Stiles. He already hates himself more than enough and you’re doing this to him!”

Somewhere at the back of his brain Stiles registers that there are more people gathering around them, that Jennifer hears every word of it, that his dad will probably hear about it sooner or later, but he isn’t controlling himself, twisting Jackson’s arm and pushing him away.

“You don’t fucking know _anything_ , Jackson! NOTHING! You weren’t even here! You have no idea what I had myself do for all of you! What I had to do to make him stay! And I wouldn’t change it because I apparently still care too much about all of you even if you cut me out of your lives! But don’t make me return to that because I can’t- I can’t go through it again…”

Stiles is breathing heavily, heart beating madly, looking straight at Jackson’s shocked expression. He turns to look at Jennifer but she’s not there. She’s probably no longer his girlfriend too. Instead there’s half the town, gathered to watch the show. Stiles pushes past Jackson and walks fast to his car, driving home. Leaving with a bang, huh?

It’s late at night when his phone lights up with a message. He couldn’t sleep anyway. His father didn’t say anything but Stiles was sure he knew everything that happened, word by word. The message is from Jackson and Stiles hesitates before opening it.

**You didn’t have to shout, freak.**

As far as peace offerings go, Stiles will take what he can get.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said, nothing graphic at all. There're only two kisses and some hand-holding. It's all written more like a summary and it ends by the end of the chapter.
> 
>  
> 
> This fic is too old and too embarrassing. Ugh.
> 
>  
> 
> also, I always forget to add, all the titles are from IAMX's songs.


	5. (When you're in pieces) Just follow the echo of my voice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The farther they get from town, the stronger the feeling of overwhelming sickness becomes._   
> 
> 
> It seems like Stiles' life is getting back on track but it's just an illusion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't expect any feedback and I'm pleasantly shocked. Thank you all for the comments and the kudos! They mean a lot! I really hope I won't disappoint you with the ending.

The cast is off and his arm still hurts at weird times but being able to move it and scratch it when it’s itching is the best feeling in the world. Jackson keeps writing to him and Stiles finds himself answering. They’re mostly trading insults but it’s familiar, nice. Texting with Jackson turns into skyping with him and Lydia. And then he’s at Jackson’s place, for the first time in his life, sitting beside Lydia, Jackson getting them beers because “don’t touch anything, Stilinski, or I’ll end you.” Lydia is measuring him with a look and he frowns in return.

“What?” The girl just puckers up her lips and gives him a shove in response.

“Don’t do that again.”

“Yeah, I figured dating isn’t for m-”

“You know what I mean, Stiles.” She’s looking cross now and then Jackson is walking in, squeezing in between them and leveling Stiles with a glare of his own.

Actually, Stiles has no idea what she means. He’s been living in a web of lies so thick he’s not sure what is a lie and what is a bigger lie and if Lydia is smart enough to figure everything out. The boy raises his bottle to Jackson’s beer and Lydia’s martini that Jackson took the time to make and even put an olive in it, and gives the two a crooked smile.

“No more.” He isn’t even sure if he’s lying now so Jackson won’t be able to tell either. Lydia nods and it’s easier after this. Not ideal, their conversations are still bordering on hostility and mistrust. Everybody acts weary but it’s so much better than the silence. It helps forget. Even if for a little while.

***

Danny is next to call him, asking if Stiles was free to go out. Danny was being polite: Stiles didn’t really have any more friends to hang out with except for his online friends from WOW and he managed to drift away from them too, spending less time on games and more and more on killing real life demons and werewolves.

What Stiles doesn’t expect is to see Scott standing with Danny, waiting for him. The goalie gives Stiles a bone-crushing hug that made the boy’s eyes sting, and left, saying they’ll all meet some other day and leaving Stiles alone with Scott. They drive away from town, past the town limit, as if they’re chased and won’t be free to talk, confined in Beacon Hills. Once the jeep is parked on a hill overlooking a river, both boys on the hood of the car, Scott finally utters his first words:

“I don’t know what happened. I just felt so… betrayed… and this isn’t fair to you, but you, like, abandoned us and never even told me-” Stiles interrupts him by hugging his best friend sideways, hiding his face against Scott’s neck. He’s happy Scott’s finally accepted Derek’s pack as his own. Stiles won’t tell him the reason his emotions were so spiked up was because they were in sync with everyone’s else, but he’s so happy Scott’s talking to him again.

“It’s ok. I was a dick.”

“No, you weren’t!” Scott gets free of Stiles’ clutches and frowns at him. “I’m just saying… you should’ve told me, you know?”

And there are the puppy eyes. Stiles gives the other boy a wobbly smile and now Scott moves into the embrace himself.

They ride into town laughing loudly, talking about stuff they missed out on while ignoring each other and catching up on how many times Derek broke Jackson’s nose in all this time. It feels so good to have this that Stiles can’t bring himself to talk about the other stuff, about the worse things, the ones that happened and the ones that are about to come. He has now. And it feels good. And just a wish to feel good made everything go to shit, but it really can’t get worse than what already happened. So Stiles lives in the now, laughs all he wants at Scott’s latent homosexual confessions about Isaac’s eyelashes and pretty curls, and steals Scott’s curly fries, and forgets about the time.

He’s jerked back to reality by a familiar ringtone and desperately tries to keep the smile on his face and wishes Scott could just switch off his werewolf hearing. Just for a bit. Because he can’t ignore this call and he sure as hell doesn’t want Scott to hear something that could ruin the day for him too.

“Hi dad.” He patiently listens to his father reminding him of his curfew and the moment he starts talking about the other thing, Stiles interrupts him, talking loudly over his father. He’s excused because he’s with Scott, but the moment he ends the call, Scott’s phone starts ringing.

“I’m with Stiles, Mr Stilinski.” Wasn’t necessary to prove to Stiles how much his father doesn’t trust him but it still stings.

When he does get home, his father is downstairs, behind the kitchen table, just sitting there.

“I really forgot about-”

“I saw your room, son.” Stiles clenches his teeth.

“I’m getting to it.”

“You should. Because if you’re not planning on talking-”

“I know. I know, ok? I’m- I’m almost ready.”

The sheriff nods and Stiles rushes up the stairs, locking the door and falling on the bed, burying his face in the pillow.

***

Scott wants to make up for the lost time and it’s so much easier than with Lydia and Jackson, whom he never was friends with, to come back to their routine. It’s also scarily similar to when they were in middle school and their parents were bent on having them home as early as possible. And just like old times they‘d spend time at home unable to get off the computer, talking until morning, too busy taking new quests and discussing everything and anything.

Isaac joins them in a group chat and he’s so shy and unsure about this invasion that Stiles can’t help it, he invites him to play with him and Scott. Later Isaac will confess that he and Scott were planning on introducing his avatar to theirs in so many ways that they almost abandoned hope. Stiles makes fun of them for another couple of days after the big confession.

That’s why it was so hard to explain disappearing for a whole day. But the original offer was staying longer, spending the night at a hotel instead, maybe driving all the way instead of taking the plane and it would take two days just to get there, so spending a day away from home and from Scott was a killer deal. Even if it meant that Stiles would be exhausted by the end of their trip. 

Stiles plans out words, working around a lie, ghosting the truth and adding some general words, thinking up a relative emergency they absolutely have to attend, but after he sends a text to Scott about being away with his father for the whole day, Scott doesn’t call back, how he’d usually do, and just sends an “ok”. It doesn’t feel right but he’ll take it.

***

The farther they get from town, the stronger the feeling of overwhelming sickness becomes. Stiles’ head is heavy, his heart is thrumming worriedly in his chest, his palms are sweaty and he can’t stop twitching, but he also can’t say or do anything to stop it. The boy’s father is silent, sitting in a chair beside him, never looking at his son and Stiles isn’t sure if it’s a bad thing or a good thing, will he start begging his father to stop if they make eye contact or will he just break down and have a panic attack right there in the plane.

It’s stuffy and suffocating in the car they take to reach their destination, Stiles’ father behind the wheel and it isn’t much better outside, disgustingly stuffy and scorchingly hot with the sun at its’ peak. It’s like everything, even the weather, is against them taking this trip, telling them to turn around and go home. Stiles follows his dad to the grayish school building, where a man and a woman, both in their fifties, are already waiting for them. There are words of gratitude and thanks for accepting them at such an inconvenient time and on such short notice, they’re showed around campus and walked through the dorms, they visit the principal’s office where the sheriff tells him in a serious voice that he shouldn’t hesitate to summon Stiles whatever the problem is and should call immediately even if he misses the first five minutes of class. The principal, Stiles didn’t bother to remember his name, laughs good-naturedly and reassures the older Stilinski that everything will be fine and he’s got a good young man there. But his eyes tell Stiles that he’ll do exactly as his dad said.

The tour ends at the cafeteria and they’re free to go. Stiles’ father doesn’t even mention Stiles’ silence during all of the road and then all the way through school, answering only when asked directly. He takes them to a burger joint nearby and doesn’t even try to take a burger, ordering a salad instead. Stiles feels sick, but he’s hungry so he orders some food for himself and swallows it down as fast as possible, waiting for his dad, taking time with the greens, to get up and go back, back home, now. Even if their plain isn’t scheduled for another couple of hours but everything feels wrong here and the longer they stay the more Stiles feels trapped and like he can’t escape.

The sheriff doesn’t go for the car, taking a tour around town and then they’re at the local Police Department, Stiles left to sit at the front desk, checking the time every five seconds, while his father laughs and talks with an old friend working there, no doubt telling him to keep an eye on his underage delinquent son.

They take their sweet time, walking around town in the heat and by the time they get back to the car, Stiles isn’t even happy about it, he’s just listless.

The flight home is better: there’s air conditioning in the plane and they’re flying _home_. There’s even a smile on Stiles’ face when he switches on his phone and there are texts from Jackson and Danny, both.

“I’m still all ears if you want to tell me what’s going on.” Stiles jerks in his seat, meeting his father’s eyes for the first time that day, “You can avoid going there.”

It’s like his broken arm started to ache again, and his headache is back, and his heart feels like stopping, making it hard to take a breath, feeling like every person in the plane is listening in now that they’re talking. Stiles turns away, looking out the window, commanding himself to smile.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, dad.”

Stiles hears the frustrated huff his father makes and then they’re silent again. See, piece of cake. Stiles struggles to control his breathing all the rest of the way back.

***

Danny wants them to meet up and Stiles wonders if he’s going to bring someone else with him this time, if he’s going to bring _Derek_. He can’t help that little bit of disappointment when it’s not Derek Danny brings. But mostly he’s relieved. It’s good. He’s not ready to see him. Not yet.

Danny brings Boyd and Isaac but doesn’t leave like last time and takes them to a café that has the best sundae Stiles ever had in his life and he didn’t even know about this place before today. They talk about neutral things, not a word about the pack. It is so obviously avoiding the issue, but it isn’t making them feel pressured so nobody pushes it.

Stiles should’ve figured out that Danny’s invitations always end up with more people than just them. It’s the whole pack next time, sans Derek, but it’s better that way. Stiles receives hugs, pats on the back, a kiss on the cheek from Lydia and a hair toussle from Scott. His life is filling up with chatter and laughter, with people he cares about and whom he could’ve called a second family, if he dared.

On the other hand, his room is emptying by the day. Clothes, notebooks and photos leaving their places on the shelves and in wardrobes. It doesn’t feel real. Chasing faeries around Beacon Hills didn’t feel real, but this is like another kind of reality, a parallel dimension, a surreal bizarre world that Stiles needs to escape but has no idea how to. All that he knows is he can’t tell his dad the truth and he can’t put the weight of it all on the shoulders of his friends. But his world is falling apart, the teen is getting less and less sleep, worrying over things he no longer has the power over. He even thought of running away but in his defence he had only four hours of sleep in almost three days that time.

Stiles is selfish. When he realizes what he wishes for, he can’t believe himself. For days he’s been wishing for a death. For a body to be found in the forest, for a danger coming to Beacon Hills, for something unavoidable and big enough to make his mind stop spinning and from making these feelings of walls crumbling in, caging him in, to stop. He gets a meeting with Derek instead. It’s a good substitute to make his world stop, heart freezing and then beginning to beat fast and out of rhythm. The pack feels the shift in the mood instantly and probably hates Peter for ruining the day, for bringing Derek, but Stiles has never been that grateful to the maniac werewolf. This is the closure he needed. He had to see Derek. But his voice won’t come, throat clogging up and palms becoming sweaty.

In the end the day is awkward and everybody acts like they’re walking on eggshells around him. And Stiles doesn’t say what he practiced saying for so long. He still has time. The summer isn’t over yet… Next time he’ll say it. Next time.

The next time they meet is to go to a fair in the neighbor town, which took a lot of begging and pleading on Stiles’ side and in the end the sheriff did let him leave with a strict curfew and making Stiles listen to him calling a police officer to order him to patrol the fair slash stalk Stiles’ every move. Sooner or later everybody realizes they’re being followed and Stiles has to explain what’s going on before the werewolves decide that it’s some serious threat and attack the poor deputy. Everybody is silent for a while after this but they try really hard to pretend they don’t notice the stalking and Stiles doesn’t have the willpower to say what he has to in the end. Not when everybody is so supportive and happy and carefree for once.

Then there’s something else, and then something else, and he just can’t. The longer he doesn’t say it, the longer it isn’t true. Just when he looks at Scott, messily eating a hot dog, at Isaac, licking mustard off of his fingers, at Lydia, looking like she’s disgusted with all of them, but stealing bites of Jackson’s burger when she thinks no one sees, at Boyd, a silent presence, but smiling at Stiles when he catches his eyes, at Danny, nudging him with an elbow to tell him something, and at Derek, never taking his eyes off of Stiles, staring like he sees something no one else sees, like he wants to say something, but he never does; he can’t ruin the moment and spoil what they have.

***

They’re sitting at Derek’s, scattered around the place, taking up every flat surface, full and content. At home Stiles’ bags are packed and are standing in the center of his empty room, so now’s as good a time as ever.

“I’m leaving.” This doesn’t draw attention like he thought it would. Someone nods or hums in acknowledgement, but they don’t get what he means. Stiles fidgets and forces a smile on his face. He practiced, he can do it. “I’m moving to Virginia. Dad and I talked about it for a while now and I wanted to move to a school that’s closer to the college I want to apply to. And living in the dorms will get me ready for college…”

The silence after this is deafening. He doesn’t want to look at his pack, but they deserve at least that. What Stiles sees is understanding and pity and that’s not what he expected. He didn’t think they’d understand. Not after what happened. Stiles isn’t sure what he’s feeling himself: he’s relieved, yes, but this reaction feels so empty, so-

“You can’t leave!” Derek is up on his feet, eyes wild, panicked, angry. Red. And Stiles just sits and stares at him for a whole minute, unable to conjure words. When he finally talks, he doesn’t even get that it’s him talking at first. He doesn’t recognize his own voice.

“Don’t.” It’s weak and hoarse and he can’t do anything about it. “I expected Scott to… act like that. Maybe Jackson, he has a not so subtle hard on for me,” good, he can still joke at least, “But not you. Don’t do this.”

It seems Derek didn’t hear a word he’s saying though.

“You won’t leave. I won’t let you.”

Boyd touches Derek’s arm and tells him in a level voice “stop it”. Scott is up too, standing halfway between Stiles and his alpha, ready to stop something, anything that’s about to go down. But it’s like Derek doesn’t even see them.

“You’re not leaving me. And _them_.”

“Please, don’t make it harder than it already-”

“You’re not going anywhere! You’re pack. _My_ pack. I forbid you. I’m _not_ letting you go.”

Stiles is lost. He’s opening and closing his mouth, making aborted motions with his hands, looking to Derek and down, back to Derek again, his body failing him, not letting him react, going into shock. It’s not like leaving his pack, Derek’s pack, is what _he_ wants. He never wanted _this_.

It’s Peter who stands up next. He lifts Isaac from the couch by the elbow and surveys the room with a look.

“I think I saw some weird tracks in the forest I need you to check out.”

Nobody moves and Peter just made Stiles realize exactly what he needs. He needs them to leave. They need to go. It’s hard as it is and with an audience it just turns into a bad show. Stiles stands up, looking at Scott and gives him a shaky nod. Scott going for the door is everyone’s queue to silently follow him out. Stiles doesn’t miss the glare Scott sends Derek, eyes flashing yellow for a second, an unnecessary threat. Stiles doesn’t think Derek will do anything to him. The moment he gets this thought he almost wishes that Derek did. Maybe if he spent some more time at the hospital his father wouldn’t make him leave?

They’re silent for a long time, waiting for the werewolves to leave their hearing range. And then Derek’s looking back at him, fangs out, eyes red, looking more like a trapped animal than a predator.

“You can’t do this to me…”

“You’re the one doing it!”

Stiles recoils, almost as if he was slapped.

“I’m not doing _anything_! You’ll… it’ll be better without me. It’s your pack and I won’t be in the way anymore, they won’t be nervous every time we’re in a room together-” He’s repeating Derek’s words from before but Derek was wrong and Stiles is doing this for the right reasons. He just didn’t think it would be so painful. The words are so true it hurts. But it’s closure, he needs closure, that’s what he wanted.

Derek’s eyes are back to his hazel-blue human color when he says:

“I don’t care about them. They don’t matter. You can’t leave.”

If Stiles were a werewolf he knows he’d be wolfing out now, unable to contain the anger at Derek’s words. It’s like everything he worked for, tried so hard to create – wasn’t even noticed, was cast aside as a joke. Stiles is the first to make physical contact, pushing Derek with force.

“What the hell?! You didn’t get _anything_?! _They_ have to be your everything! All of this- it all was for nothing?! So what, you fall in love again and she dies or leaves you, because that’s the way it works, buddy, and you’ll what? Abandon them again?!”

“And follow you to your school.”

“Oh my god! Fuck you! You’re not allowed… what?”

“While there’s even a slightest chance I won’t-”

“Are you fucking kidding me?! What the fuck are you even trying to say?!” He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t want to understand. He doesn’t want this!

“I listened to every message you left while I was in NY.”

He can’t look at the man in front of him. He can’t breathe, he can’t- He can’t. This is so absurd! The boy is shaking all over and walking backwards, bumping into the couch and falling onto it, powerless.

“No.” He’s shaking his head, looking at nothing particular, just staring forward, his mind registering Derek moving closer tentatively.  
“F-fuck you. You took away everything from me. I was… in love with you and you just- you turned all that into something I don’t want to remember…”

He just admitted it out loud. To Derek himself of all people. That he was in love with him. Stiles buries his face in his hands, bending in half and trying to find something to anchor him to reality, to stop showing just how weak he is.

He feels Derek’s hands on his temples as Derek sits down on the floor opposite to him.

“Give me another chance.” It’s such a usual Derek-voice, not really a question, and it only hurts more. Derek leans in, kissing him on the forehead and Stiles recoils, sitting straight, feeling tears prickling his eyes.

“I hate you.”

Derek doesn’t even say anything, just looks at him, keeping eye-contact.

“I _hate_ you, you get it? You ruined everything.”

“I know.” Just like it’s normal to answer like that.

“You don’t fucking deserve- anything!”

“I know.”

Stiles breathes out, forcing himself to breathe in after, shaking again. He drags his hands up his face, tangling his fingers in his hair.

“Do you… do you have any idea how horrible I felt?” His voice is weak and he should get up and leave but his legs won’t listen to him and he can’t stop himself.

“I have a guess. If you had to go so far from me to make it better.”

“And you’re still hoping for something?” Stiles looks at the werewolf in front of him, incredulous.

“No. But I know you’re better than me.”

Stiles can’t help a laugh from escaping his throat.

“It’s a fucking abusive relationship and I’m a fucking victim of domestic abuse.”

“I’ll do anything.”

“No.” Stiles shakes his head and moves further into the couch. “No.” He motions for Derek to let him stand up and forces himself off the couch. “I can’t- I _won’t_ do it.”

Stiles’ ears are ringing all the way to the door and down the stairs, he can’t take in a big enough breath to fill his lungs and feel like he’s alive, sitting in the car and trying to start it. The jeep rumbles after a while, letting him drive away, faster, faster, away…

***

“AND YOU’LL FUCKING LET ME LEAVE JUST LIKE THAT?!” The door is slammed open, Derek never shut it, never moved from his spot in front of the couch.

Stiles went as far as the first traffic-light before turning back and speeding all the way back, running up the stairs and into Derek’s loft.

“You said you won’t do it.” Derek doesn’t move, looking blankly at the young man.

“And you decided that of all the times you could be, you’d be all noble and shit _now_?!”

Derek’s eyes become clearer, but he’s still sitting there, unmoving, eyes searching for an answer in Stiles’s expression.

“I don’t fucking know what I want but I-” and Derek is there in front of him, like magic. It’s physically impossible, Stiles understands that crossing the room to the door supposedly takes time, but Derek’s crushing him in a hug, knocking the air out of him, and it aches, but not because of the lack of air.

“You shouldn’t have came back.” Derek’s wrinkling Stiles’ shirt and rubbing his stubble all over the sensitive skin of Stiles’ neck but he couldn’t care less. The teen takes the man’s head in both his hands and makes him face him, so close, noses almost touching. They’re almost the same height and Stiles thinks in a year he’ll definitely be taller than Derek.

“I didn’t say I’m staying.”

Derek’s expression is desperate and then he’s kissing Stiles, for the first time in such a long time that it almost feels foreign, the hot slide of his tongue, the rasp of the stubble, the teeth, biting his lips. Stiles returns the kiss, scratching the short hair on the back of Derek’s nape, trying to bring him closer, pressing into him with his entire body.

Stiles is scrambling to slam the door shut as Derek is crowding him in, leaving bite marks down his neck, the pain making it feel real and making Stiles feel alive for the first time in such a long time. The doorknob is digging painfully into the small of his back when Derek pushes him against the – finally! – closed door, hiking his shirt up, hands rough, almost bordering on painful, as if he thinks that this isn’t real. Stiles can relate to that, he doesn’t believe it too.

“Every- message?” He manages to gasp out before Derek is covering his mouth with his lips and Stiles is moaning, mind forgetting how to form words and not even caring about it. Derek moves away when they’re both breathing hard, faces flushed, lips red, wet with saliva.

“All of them.” Derek looks straight at him, so serious like it’s a confession. It kind of is.

Derek’s hands wonder lower, groping Stiles’ ass through the fabric of his jeans but Stiles’ face colors for an entirely different reason.

“There were some pretty embarrassing ones…” Derek smirks at him and then presses the gentlest kiss to his lips, not letting it escalate into anything else.

“There were.” Stiles groans, rolling his eyes.

“You’re supposed to deny everything!”

“They were the best.”

Stiles squeaks and hides his face against Derek’s shoulder. Derek takes the opportunity to kiss the reddening marks on the boy’s neck. Derek isn’t saying anything and Stiles doesn’t want to talk too, so he just lets his hands wander over Derek’s back, tracing patterns, lifting his head a little bit to kiss the skin in front of him. Then Derek finally says something and Stiles certainly doesn’t want to talk after that.

“I want you.” Is all it takes for Stiles to get back to kissing the man holding him in his arms. Derek lifts him off the ground and Stiles doesn’t even hesitate before wrapping his legs around the werewolf’s waist, letting him carry him up the stairs and lay him down on the bed, covering the young man with his body, not allowing him any movements except for the ones he wants him to make.

Stiles is moaning unashamed, trying to get as much contact as he can as Derek’s undressing them both, taking time with Stiles’ clothing, kissing the revealed skin and tracing his fingertips against it. He really doesn’t expect Derek to keep kissing down his body, to mouth at the bulge in his boxers, making Stiles whimper and clutch at the sheets.

He makes a mournful sound when Derek doesn’t suck him off but he guesses it never was his thing and it’s not like he’s going to start now. Stiles doesn’t mind. Not when finally it’s the real Derek with him, fucking him, the one from his phone calls and the one he was with all this time, the one that was shielding himself so hard and insistent from everything.

When Derek commands him to get on all fours he does, and then he’s gasping for air, pushing his face against the pillow, trying to squirm away and to move into the touch at the same time. Derek bites his buttock and licks at the bite instantly.

“Don’t move.” Stiles grumbles his response into the pillow but it turns into a wail of pleasure as Derek’s tongue makes a broad stroke across his entrance, his hands moving Stiles’ ass cheeks apart for better access. He’s lapping at the teen’s hole like a dog and the boy can’t help becoming a boneless whimpering mess, thighs trembling and legs in danger of giving out.

Apparently he isn’t too far out of it if he can hear Derek jerking himself off as his tongue probes and demands access, but this only makes it harder to control himself. Derek doesn’t want him composed and controlled, he fucks him with his tongue, holding him up with a hand around the boy’s waist, as his other hand, his long lean fingers, circle around his entrance, teasing it alongside his tongue. All Stiles can do is move his hips towards the motion and mutter half-formed words of appreciation. It’s so much more intense not only because it’s the first time he’s getting fucked like that, because Derek’s willing to do it, because Derek, who never even took him into his mouth, is having his tongue inside of him, working its way in and out. Stiles isn’t even sure how he has space for any thoughts in his head when Derek’s doing this to him. And then there’s the first finger, entering him, and he doesn’t think any more.

“No!” Derek stops with the first sound and Stiles moans when he pulls his finger out. Stiles is hurrying to turn around, to lay on his back, spreading his legs wide, muttering “no, no, not like this.” The gorgeous man above him, wrecked and flushed, his cock standing proud against his stomach, makes Stiles’ mouth water and makes controlling his thoughts all the more harder, but Derek’s looking confused, even if he’s probably caught on already.

“Like this. Please?” Stiles can see the relief on the were’s face before he’s leaning in to claim his lips, lining up their dicks and Stiles is moaning into the kiss, canting his hips up to get more friction, clutching Derek close to himself, leaving red lines across his back that instantly fade away, with his blunt fingernails.

Derek doesn’t stop kissing him or moving against him when one of his hands, caressing the teen’s side, moves lower, ghosts against the his inner thigh and dips down, one finger sliding in with almost no resistance and starting to move. Derek’s palm is rubbing against Stiles’ ballsack like that and all of the sensations mixed together are overwhelming, making it hard to cooperate, hard to do anything but give in to the overwhelming want, to shift his hips in time with Derek’s thrusts, to moan a mix of Derek’s name and pleas into their kiss.

When Derek moves away it’s like it’s the end of the world, even if he’s back in a minute, with a bottle of lube and a leer that would make Stiles blush if he wasn’t already red-faced, spread out on the bed, moving his legs further apart, unashamed.

It’s all familiar but at the same time it isn’t: the kisses, the hands, caressing his body, the lube-slick fingers entering him, the lips that wouldn’t stop covering his skin with kisses. It’s like this time there’s more fervor, like it’s a bit too desperate, just… more. More feeling sounds too cheesy but Stiles can be excused, his brain has short circuited and left his body after Derek’s confession. And it is kind of true.

Stiles tries to control his screams when Derek starts moving inside him, his dick filling him up so perfectly, by biting the back of his hand, but Derek slows down, leaning in to move his hand away, kissing the bite mark Stiles left and pulling out half way just to thrust back in. Stiles throws his head back, mouth open in a moan and then Derek’s biting his neck with blunt human teeth and moving his hands under the boy’s knees, shifting so his thrusts would be less shallow, trying to reach deeper.

It’s Derek’s growl that sets Stiles off and he’s coming, with Derek on top of him, fucking him open, biting the teen’s lips. Stiles tries not to give in to the heaviness settling in his body, pulling Derek in, moving the best he can manage to help bring him to the edge. Derek comes biting Stiles’ shoulder, curling into him and definitely leaving hand prints on the other’s skin when he clutches him close to himself.

There’s come on their stomachs, they’re both sweaty and sticky, but moving isn’t on the agenda if Stiles has a word in it. Derek must be ok with this plan if him giving Stiles a soft long kiss after pulling out and lying beside him was any indication.

Somewhere later Derek does get up to get some tissues but as soon as they’re more or less cleaned up he’s laying back down, covering Stiles with an arm, pleasantly heavy. They trade lazy kisses and caresses that won’t lead anywhere and Stiles never felt happier in his life. The young man distinctly registers Derek’s finger, drawing patterns on his upper arm, and his lips at Stiles’ temple, but his eyelids are heavy and the past months, the past half a year, maybe even longer, it was so hard to keep going and, as stupid as it sounds, right now he feels as safe as he can be, so with Derek holding him in his arms, Stiles falls asleep feeling like everything’s right for the first time in a long long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And let's not forget that Stiles is still leaving and still has issues with his dad.  
> Also I can't write sex.  
> Also the last chapter was supposed to be an epilogue but I'll probably change it into a full chapter. idk yet, sorry.


	6. Everything and all I need (Is at your feet)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected visit and a family dinner. Of sorts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for taking so long! Thank you all so much!  
> Basically this chapter will be weird and sappy. Be prepared.

Stiles has nothing against Derek touching him. Just not when he wants to sleep. The boy throws the pillow in the direction of Derek’s voice telling him to get up, swats at the hand stroking his hair, hitting his own ear, and hides under the covers. Derek’s persistent, because the next moment Stiles doesn’t have the blanket on any more.

“Oh come on! No sex forever! Gimme back!” Stiles makes grabby hands and tries to curl into a ball at the same time.

“Stiles. Scott called. You need to get home.” All the fuzz from sleep and all the laziness in his body evaporates and the cold air of the room is instantly icy and suffocating at the same time. Derek hears the change in his breathing and heartbeat and his hands are back to stroking the teen’s hair.

“What time is it?”

“It’s not too late… Your phone…” Stiles nods. He switched it off when he left Derek’s, in case he’d try calling. He never switched it on again. He’ll be lucky if the whole police station isn’t out there looking for him.

Stiles gets up in one motion, dots dancing before his eyes, but he stumbles to his clothes, scattered over the floor, complaining about Derek throwing them too far, taking too long to find his flannel shirt, while Derek explains what’s going on.

“Scott called because the sheriff called him to ask where you were. He tried lying… You can borrow my clothes.”

Stiles is midway in putting on his jeans, almost falling over. He looks to Derek, still in bed, covered only by a thin sheet, naked, hair rumpled. While he has to get dressed and leave. The boy swears.

“Really? You want to be domestic and sweet _now_?”

Derek looks down and instead of answering says:

“We should tell your father.”

Alright, no, this can’t keep getting weirder and more and more uncomfortable.

“Really? Are you even- can you hear yourself right now? I don’t think my dad needs to know I’m sleeping with an ex-convict. Even if I think Jackson made sure he does think that…”

“No. Not about that. About everything.”

Stiles pauses mid-track, freezing like he can somehow pretend he’s not there.

“Ok, give me your henley or something, I’m late already.”

“Stiles, you have to-”

“No, I don’t.” He’s turning to look Derek straight in the eyes. “I won’t. And I won’t let you ruin his life too. Nobody tells him. Ever.”

“You cried every time you mentioned how he won’t talk to you…”

And isn’t this a low blow. It’s fight or flight and Stiles doesn’t even know what he’ll choose. He’s too tired and too wound up, he’s been agitated and panicked for the best part of the last year and a half, he has Derek but he’s still leaving and-

“Let’s talk about this later.” Derek’s hands envelop his, stroking the knuckles of Stiles’ clenched fists. He didn’t even notice Derek getting up. One glance is enough to see that Derek decided that clothes were optional but it’s not weird or uncomfortable, or overly sexual. Even if Stiles does want to say something about how objectifiable Derek’s body is. Derek’s kissing the side of his head and Stiles leans into the touch, threading his fingers with Derek’s. “You need to go now.”

Stiles makes a hum in acknowledgement and they spend the next couple of minutes just standing like that, unmoving. Then Derek does give him his clothes to wear. A black jacket, one of the huge collection he used to show up to school in, when they first met him and he was still a scary mystery. Stiles snickers at the gesture and laughs when Derek asks him if he wants him to drive home with him.

“Stay.” This sounds too much like a dog joke he didn’t intend and Stiles can’t help but laugh again. He’s not really sure if the laughter is hysterical or genuine any more. “Stay, jerk off thinking of me, sleep. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

There’re more kisses all the way to the door and then Stiles is switching on his phone as he’s rushing down the stairs, receiving all the messages about missed calls and voice mails he got from his father and Scott and calls his dad. The sheriff picks up after the first ring.

“Stiles?!” The boy honestly thought it would be another “you’re late and I am disappointed” incident, but just this one word, just saying his name… his dad wasn’t mad. He was scared. Stiles was the worst son ever.

“I’m sorry. I’m ok. I’m driving home.”

“When you come back home we’re having a talk.” Stiles frowns but agrees, what else can he do. The road from Derek’s place doesn’t take long and there’s almost no traffic at this time. Stiles’ head is empty. He can’t even force himself to think of something. He doesn’t know what he’ll tell his dad, he doesn’t know how he’s going to explain his absence, he doesn’t want to, he just feels his body aching pleasantly, feels the faint smell of leather, damp ground and that smell that is Derek and wants to get back in bed with the man, curl up beside him and sleep for the whole of next week.

The sheriff is waiting outside and the first thing he does is confiscate the keys to the jeep. Stiles doesn’t have the power to protest. His father’s argument is that he won’t be needing it in Virginia anyway doesn’t help with making things easier.

His father’s drunk. He doesn’t catch the whiskey smell at first, it’s the way he’s swaying slightly, eyes blurry, that gives him away. He must’ve started drinking after Stiles called. The older Stilinski tugs at the collar of Derek’s jacket.

“That’s not yours.”

“It’s… not. Let’s get inside, dad.” Stiles tries to escort his father inside but the Sheriff won’t budge.

“This wasn’t here too.” He’s pointing at the collar again and it takes a moment for Stiles to realize he’s not talking about the jacket but about the marks Derek left on his neck. It’s useless to cover them and Stiles tries to think of a way to justify it when his father’s face crumbles.

“I was picturing you dead, practically planning your funeral and you were…” he slaps a hand against his eyes, dragging it up and messing up his hair. “I don’t even know what to do with you any more. Get inside. We’ll talk tomorrow. I’m too tired to talk now.”

As Stiles is walking up the stairs he knows his father is going to drink until he passes out and there’s nothing he can do about it.

***

Stiles doesn’t go to sleep, sitting in his dark room, hugging the leather jacket close to himself and trying to hear if his dad has fallen asleep. Scott calls him but Stiles rejects the call and gets a text instead.

**we need to talk man**

Derek wants to talk, his father wants to talk, Scott wants to talk… And what if Stiles doesn’t want to? Stiles just wants to… The boy shuffles on the bed, hugging his knees and hiding his head against them, breathing in the faint smell of Derek’s jacket… disappear.

He can’t believe everything seemed to go so well just some hours ago. He shouldn’t have turned his car and shouldn’t have came back to Derek, he shouldn’t have done so many things so that now he wouldn’t have only regret, unable to change a thing.

When he’s sure his father’s passed out, Stiles walks down to the ground floor, taking the almost empty bottle from his father’s hand and covering him with a quilt. Stiles hesitates for a second before finishing off the bottle in three big gulps. The whiskey burns but it’s the good kind, not the cheep shit kids drink at parties, so after the burning there’s a warmth settling in his stomach and throat and it’s nice, good.

Stiles sits on the porch in the back yard for the next half hour, picking at the wood and listening to the sounds of the night. When he goes back up and lies on his bed, fully dressed, never taking off Derek’s jacket, he takes out his phone and calls him. The voice, answering, startles the boy. The silence must’ve gone on for too long because he got Derek worried.

“… Stiles? Stiles, what is it?... Can you talk?”

“Uh- yeah! Yeah, I just… ” he just what? He forgot Derek actually has his phone switched on and he can actually respond? He just forgot that he can’t tell him anything too?

“Talk.”

“Uh, you know, I just-”

“Talk. I won’t say anything.”

Stiles hesitates, he’s silent for a while, but then he opens his mouth and it’s easy. Easy as it always was and he finds himself telling Derek everything. He hears Derek’s intake of breath when he says that he’s leaving anyway, but the werewolf doesn’t say a word, as he promised, and talking comes easier after this. He talks about his father, about that school and how he hated it, about wanting to stay and all the reasons he can’t, the main reason why he can’t. Stiles is at the end of his conversation, saying goodbye, when Derek finally talks, startling him once again.

“I’ll take care of everything.” Stiles can’t help but laugh.

“What?”

“I love you.” Derek hangs up leaving Stiles in an empty room, with a hammering heart, feeling like it’s going to burst. He’s feeling sick all of a sudden and like he can take down a whole werewolf pack all by himself. He thinks he’s sober now, from that little bit of whiskey he had, but his head is fuzzy in a different kind of haze. Stiles burries his head against the pillow and hates himself for smiling, because it didn’t mean a thing, it won’t mean a thing in the long run, it doesn’t even matter, but he can’t help it. Even if it isn’t true and Derek said it to make him feel better… it worked.

***

Stiles wakes up early to a set alarm and hurries to switch it off. He creeps down and makes sure that there are bananas, milk and honey close by for when his dad wakes up. He doesn’t really think the anti-hangover shakes help, but his dad thinks otherwise. Stiles still leaves the aspirin on the table. After this he goes back to his room, takes a quick shower and gets dressed into his pyjamas. He knows for a fact he’s not walking out of the house, not until his father says he can. He still puts Derek’s jacket on, it’s stupid but it calms him down. He considers calling Derek again but decides against it. He was desperate yesterday and he had his chance to talk his heart out. He should know his boundaries.

He should do something, to pass the time, but Stiles doesn’t move from his bed, changing position from time to time, listening to the silence. Maybe he should call Scott… He doesn’t. Stiles finally hears his father wake up, moving around downstairs. He’s not sure if he should let his father know he’s at home or if he should stay in his room, waiting to be called downstairs for the Talk. In the end his options are ripped away from him with the doorbell ringing.

Stiles jumps off the bed and is rushing down the stairs, stomping on steps, skipping them. He doesn’t know who it is but his dad shouldn’t be bothered so early and he has a bad feeling about the visitor. He’s too late though, his father opening the door to no other than Derek Hale. Stiles can’t help a swear from escaping his mouth.

***

“What is it, kid? It’s not a good time so maybe-” Derek is startled by the pronoun the sheriff chose for him, but he’s regaining his composure quickly, talking over the man:

“It’s about Stiles.” Way to get the Sheriff’s attention.

Stiles shakes off the numbness that took control of him and steps in front of his dad, in the way of Derek getting in.

“I don’t think you know what you’re talking about. My father told you it wasn’t a good time.”

“Come on in.” Is what his father says though and Derek bodily moves Stiles out of the way, following the sheriff into the kitchen. It’s time to panic but Stiles doesn’t feel any signs of a panic attack building up. It’s just anger inside him. He holds Derek back by the elbow and raises his eyebrows at him in an incredulous gesture. Derek’s face is blank though, determined.

“Did you come here to talk to me or my underage son?” Says the voice from the kitchen and Derek pries Stiles’ fingers off his arm to join the older Stilinski.

“Can we have a word, please?” Stiles asks even if he knows the answer. His father doesn’t even have to say anything, he just looks at him and Stiles sits at the table, pulling Derek down with him. Stiles tries to sit closer to his father rather than to Derek, because it’s always better to redirect his father’s anger at someone else and because if Derek’s doing what he thinks he’s doing, he doesn’t want to sit with him, no matter how childish it sounds. It’s actually very serious, it’s his life that Derek wants to ruin. It isn’t a fucking game.

“So what, you came to tell me you’re in love and he shouldn’t leave?” Stiles chokes on air, he totally forgot about the love bites and the jacket he’s still wearing. Crap. At least Derek’s looking as bewildered as he does. “No? You’ll deny it?”

“No.” Stiles wants to hide. Or run away. Or bash Derek on the head with something heavy so he would shut up. His hands move to take off the jacket but then he stops himself because this won’t help anyway. “We’re… together. But that’s not what I wanted to talk about.”

Stiles actually groans and covers his face with his hands to this. It’s too early in the morning for any of this crap.

“Funny. You’d think telling a sheriff about sleeping with his underage son would be a priority topic.” All right, he just needs to play along.

“Dad, it’s nothing. We were using protection and everything.” Derailing the conversation is worth all the scoldings and lectures he’s going to get, only Derek ruins it. The moment the sheriff turned to say something to Stiles, Derek got up with the chair screeching on the kitchen tiles. The determined pinched look was back and Stiles was jumping to his feet next.

“If you do it – I’ll never talk to you again!”

The sheriff looked from one another, Stiles could see him slowly getting up too, out of the corner of his eye, but his attention was on Derek.

“I’m sorry, Stiles.” And he starts shifting. In the middle of the sheriff’s kitchen. Bones cracking and eyes glowing red-shifting. Stiles’ tirade dies on his tongue when he’s being shoved to the side and his father is darting for the cabinet, to… grab a knife, crap! Yelling at Stiles to get out and call help.

The small kitchen isn’t a good place for this weird showdown so it ends pretty quickly, when Stiles stumbles over the table, crashing a half-full mug of coffee, to stand in front of fully-human Derek, in the way of his father. With a knife. Oh god, of all the ways he imagined it going down this wasn’t in the top five worst scenarios, but somehow it was even more horrible because of it.

“Do you- Did I- What- Stiles…” the sheriff takes a few breaths, still unsure about lowering the knife. “Stiles, is he… is it a threat?” Wow, that was kind of rude. But Derek deserved it. A “no” from Stiles is enough for his dad to exhale heavily and flop down on the only chair still standing. He’s still not letting go of the knife when he tiredly looks up and says:

“Explain.”

Derek takes over the explaining, starting with Scott getting bitten and telling he’s nearby and can come over and back the story up. Stiles doesn’t believe his best friend would do this to him, gang up with Derek against him like that but it apparently is the truth. Then he talks about the fire, about the Argents being hunters, and then he talks about something Stiles never heard him talk about and he can’t believe it, he doesn’t want to believe it, he listens to Derek retelling the story of a sixteen year old him falling for a substitute teacher that used him to kill all of his family. Stiles can’t control his hand from reaching out to cover Derek’s but stops himself at the last moment, retracting it. He looks from Derek to his father and sees that face his father has when he’s solving a case in his mind, things clicking into place, hints turning into evidence. Stiles sees his father struggle, just as Stiles did, not to say anything, to keep listening to Derek as he’s talking about his losses like it’s just a story he read in the morning paper.

Derek talks about Laura and Peter, about how his tiny pack got created, what was going on when Jackson became the kanima, he tells the truth about Gerard and him beating Stiles up, Stiles didn’t even know Derek knew. He sees his father clenching fists under the table but doesn’t do anything. Just listens to Derek as he keeps on talking about the alpha pack and everything they did to him and his pack, and Stiles… The boy doesn’t even have to turn his head to know that his father is watching him, thinking god knows what.

“When I left the only thing that kept me breathing, made me eat and get up from bed were Stiles’ calls.” Stiles’ breath hitches and he flashes his gaze at Derek for a second to notice Derek turning away from him, like he was watching him for a reaction the whole time. This is the most stupid conversation Stiles ever had, and he had _a lot_ of stupid conversations. None of them is looking at the other: Stiles staring at his knees, his father watching his expression closely and Derek’s eyes wandering around the kitchen, stopping on either of them occasionally.

“He called me to tell me about the new dangers that came to town, about his day, just to say hi. And I should’ve responded or came back sooner. But I… couldn’t. That’s how I fell in love with your son.” Stiles can’t help a groan at this. Derek coughs and Stiles sees a faint blush covering his face when he looks up.

“Anyway, when I came back there were the vampires and then, when Stiles got hit, it was by a pack that wanted to destroy us. So they went for who they thought would be the weakest link. We killed them. They were rabid and wouldn’t leave otherwise.”

Stiles is sure his father won’t be ok with murder no matter how justified it seemed and no matter what, so Derek’s losing points by saying it like that. But maybe he’s gaining some with his honesty… When the hell did it turn from the werewolf reveal to would his dad approve of the new boyfriend talk?

“I don’t know the packs in Virginia but letting our pack member go there alone was a big risk already. Staying there won’t do no good. And-”

“And you’re saying you can protect him here?” It’s weird hearing his father’s voice after all that silence from him. Stiles looks from his father to Derek, sitting opposite him. Derek shakes his head.

“I can’t promise to keep him away from danger. But I can promise to do my best.”

The sheriff is quiet for several long excruciating minutes. Then he clears his throat:

“So, werewolves?”

***

Derek demonstrates the shift a couple more times and then he calls Scott on his cell. The Sheriff complains that he didn’t howl for Scott to come and Stiles can’t help but giggle for the next minute or so. The first thing his father asks Scott is if his mother knows and after answering in the affirmative Scott is made to demonstrate his own shifting into a werewolf and back until his father is moderately satisfied.

Then it’s time for the awkward “Is he good to Stiles?” and “Does he treat him right?”s, to which Scott answers with reassurances and devotion only a best friend is capable of, considering he hates the guy and his relationship with Stiles. Not that there’s any relationship after this. Derek had no right to do what he did. Stiles sneaks a glance at Derek and, well, crap, Derek’s looking all lost and unsure. He looks fucking insecure and Stiles is a good guy deep down inside, so he gives Derek a weak smile which Derek returns tenfold.

“Hey, lovebirds.” Shiiit. “I’m buying silver bullets and if Stiles is ever-”

“Wolfsbane bullets.” Oh god, can’t Derek shut up?!

“All right…” the sheriff looks at Derek like he’s a special flower and Stiles is doomed. He sees his life ending in this moment because his father actually might get to like Derek Hale. “I’ll get myself wolfsbane bullets and if you hurt Stiles, nobody will ever be able to find your body.”

“I won’t.”

“Good.” The man scrubs a hand against his scalp. “You and your… pack. You’re coming over for dinner today. All of you. No excuses. Scott, bring your mother. And you, buy some good meat. I’m sure you’ll be able to smell the fresh one. Stiles is cooking steak tonight.”

***

Stiles gets a chance to get dressed and then he’s spending the day downstairs, cooking for the entire pack that’s about to come, dreading the evening and explaining things to his dad when he asks this or that.

“Yes, Derek can turn into a wolf. No, only he can.”

“No, Peter’s… no, you know, you can shoot him just in case when you see him.”

“Danny’s magical, not me. I’m a spark. Ugh. A spark is…”

And so on and so on. The questions keep coming and Stiles is happy he has cooking as an excuse not to look his father in the eyes. Yes, admittedly, the reveal went a lot better than expected, but then there’s the dinner to be looking forward to and who knows what his father will do now that he knows there’s supernatural danger threatening his town.

In a break between questions, when there’s nothing Stiles can do but stare at the boiling water and sizzling vegetables in the pan, he has to ask. He just has to.

“Do I still have to leave?”

There’s just more silence for a long time until his father sighs deeply.

“I can’t really keep you away from your pack, can I?”

“You could… but it wouldn’t be advised.”

The sheriff sighs again and here comes the question Stiles knew was coming all along:

“Why didn’t you tell me?” While Stiles prepares to answer his father continues: “I mean I probably understand why. But I was going to think you were some criminal and you wouldn’t even say anything? Was it really worth it?”

Stiles tries to control himself, he really tries, but his throat is clogged up and he feels his eyes burning so he just shakes his head, not trusting his voice.

“Son.”

Stiles finally turns around and his dad is watching him intently, as if trying to see everything he didn’t know about him for all these months, figuring him out anew with a slight frown to his brow. Then he gives Stiles a smile and beckons him forward with a tiny hand gesture and Stiles is in his dad’s arms in a second, clutching at his shirt and hiding his face against his father’s shoulder. He doesn’t remember when they hugged last. They weren’t really big on the mushy stuff but it’s been too long and Stiles can’t make himself pull away. His father doesn’t seem keen on letting go either and they stand like that in the middle of the kitchen until Stiles can smell something burning and has to rush to stir the veggies.

It’s still about an hour until everyone has to be there when the doorbell’s ringing for the second time today and it’s Derek. Adding up to the whole weirdness by using the door again. When he walks into the kitchen with Stiles’ father, the boy can’t help laughing for the next five minutes, bent over and gasping for air. Derek is wearing a button-down and an actual formal jacket! At least it’s not a full suit – he’s wearing jeans. Derek shaved his permanent stubble into something that’ll definitely leave Stiles’ skin red and irritated and his hair looks like he tried to change it half a dozen times until he decided to leave it as it is. He’s also carrying a bottle of wine and a bag with the meat his dad made him buy. Stiles can’t stop laughing even when the sheriff smacks him upside down the head. Stiles almost blurts out “I’m never sleeping with you again while you’re dressing like that,” but his dad’s in the room, and he’s kind of not talking to Derek, he’s not sure, so he bites his tongue in time.

“You’re helping.” Is what he says instead and Derek nods, that constipated look and adorable blush back on his face.

The sheriff never leaves the kitchen while they’re there, so everything feels slightly weird and awkward. Scratch that, it’s very awkward and everybody’s silent. Whenever Stiles tries to strike up a conversation it dies without even starting and that’s just horribly unnerving.

Derek cuts up the meat the way Stiles tells him to while the boy checks on all the other things cooking. The silence is getting to Stiles so next time he needs to lean over Derek to get something he whispers “You look ridiculous.” Into his ear.

Stiles almost feels guilty for Derek cutting his finger, but he heals before the sheriff even notices. He notices the glare he sends Stiles though.

“Anything you want to share with all of us, son?”

“Was just telling Derek he looked very nice in this shirt.”

“Stop gloating. He’s trying. Maybe I should make you go get dressed better.” Stiles doesn’t even know if he’s feeling more sorry for Derek and his obvious attempt to get on the sheriff’s good side, or for himself, because no way he’s dressing into anything as dorky as to match Derek. And anyway, they’ll look like they’re on a first date or something. His dad definitely doesn’t want that, he’s going to use it as an argument if he does end up being sent to change.

It’s quiet for a while after this and then Derek’s leaning closer to him, asks “Is he making you leave?” in a troubled whisper. Stiles can’t help but smile and bumps elbows with Derek. He mouths “no” and Derek gives him a blinding smile in return. The older Stilinski coughs behind them and their eyes snap back to the food. Shit. He wasn’t supposed to talk to Derek in the first place, he’s still mad at him. But because it’s as much action as they’ll get, and as much talking, Stiles makes it a personal challenge to touch Derek’s hand or graze elbows with him as much as possible without his dad noticing. Derek’s dorky smile makes it even more rewarding.

Scott and Melissa come over early, bringing Melissa’s famous pasta and finally the sheriff’s attention isn’t fully on Stiles and Derek. There’s not much to be done now, Stiles only has to stay beside the stove to keep an eye on the meat, so Derek and Scott are sitting at the table with Stiles’ and Scott’s parents, looking like dogs that got a scolding, ears drooping and all, while the parents discuss how hard it is to raise children and comparing their knowledge on the werewolf facts they got.

Peter brings Boyd and Isaac, carrying a bottle of cognak himself, both younger betas with a bottle of juice each. When Stiles thinks it got as ridiculous as possible, he and Scott arranging the table in the dining room (it wasn’t really used even when there were three people living in the house but using the small kitchen with all these people was impossible), Jackson and Lydia drove up to the house, Danny right behind them, Jackson and Danny in suits, Lydia wearing an evening gown, some fancy custom-made cakes in hand. Now that he looked, he noticed that Peter was looking less raggedy than usual, at least he wasn’t wearing the trench coat, and even Isaac and Boyd were wearing button-downs instead of a shirt or a hoodie. Well, Scott was wearing a t-shirt too. Stiles exchanged bewildered looks with him and Scott shrugged, pulling a face.

The sheriff sat at the head of the table, Peter and Melissa at both his sides. Derek was sitting opposite Stiles, next to Peter, and Stiles wondered if it was made to get them to sit apart or to show Derek who’s the alpha here. Scott quickly plopped down beside Stiles, joined by Isaac. Nobody dared to take the seat at the other end of the table opposite Stiles’ father and it probably was for the best now.

“Let’s wait for a bit more.” Everybody turned to look at Peter with suspicion but didn’t question it, hesitantly starting the dinner instead. It was like a weird thanksgiving. Creepy uncle that nobody likes included. Stiles was a good cook when he wanted to be and he didn’t mind prolonging the moment until the Talk, so he was first to reach across the table for the food and offer some to Melissa, because he was lovely like that.

Soon enough every werewolf was tilting their head or looking in the direction of the door.

“I guess we’re waiting for somebody else?”

Peter nods and gets up from the table.

“Don’t get up, Sheriff. I’ll open the door.”

Stiles frowns but Scott, sitting beside him, squeezes his arm painfully and when Stiles looks at him he mouths “Allison” and well, Stiles didn’t expect that. Allison isn’t alone too, her father doesn’t even hesitate before taking the seat opposite from the Sheriff. They say their hello’s, Scott tensing up and staring at his plate like he wants to murder it, making Isaac fidget and squirm in place in turn. Stiles looks to Derek and sees him just as confused as everybody else. Except for Peter.

“I invited Chris over. He’s an important addition to the full picture and I thought he’d like to know that one more human is in the know.”

“Sheriff.”

“Chris.”

And that’s it, apparently. The opening to the weirdest dinner in history of all weird dinners.

***

It’s weird and invasive, and ridiculous, and rude, and everything else you can think of but nice. When Chris asks Derek about mates Derek actually growls at him instead of answering and Peter won’t stop laughing. Stiles’ father asks everyone how their time is divided between school and werewolfhood and the whole saving the town deal. It’s really funny to look at until you’re the one questioned. His dad asks about the dangers and injuries and how come Peter’s alive and well. There’s a moment he actually uses his bad cop voice on Chris Argent, lifting up from his chair to tell him off like he’s a kid just like almost everybody behind the table, scolding him for hunting down kids and for letting his father beat up Stiles. Stiles tries to pretend to be smaller, slinking under the table slowly until he bumps his leg against something. When he looks up, Derek’s looking at him with raised eyebrows and then he feels Derek’s leg moving slightly against his under the table. Stiles stays sitting with his ass half-hanging off the chair, trying not to smile too obviously, Derek’s ankle warm against his.

“So now that that’s over,” Stiles straightens up, already missing the small contact he had with Derek, but he looks to his dad as does everybody. “Now that nobody’s lying to me anymore.” Wow, that was some serious guilt tripping, he wanted something from them. “And because I’m thinking of letting Stiles stay,” oh yes, he’s going to tell them to… “I need all the information. At all times. A gremlin pesters you? I need to know. A mermaid started to live in your neighbor’s pool? I need to know. You get hurt falling over? I need to know. Those are my terms. I want you to obey them. ”

Jackson says: “Stiles is the only one falling over.” At the same time Scott says:

“But we break everything all the ti-” Stiles elbows him in the stomach making him choke. Scott lifts a hand like he’s in class and croaks: “I got hit just now, Mr Stilinski.”

Isaac giggles, but he’s pretty much a secret weapon. And yes, Stiles was hoping it would happen. Isaac turns his sincere blue puppy-dog eyes to the sheriff and smiles at him from under his lashes.

“If anything happens, we’ll tell you, sir.”

The older Stilinski turns to look at Chris and the man nods at him in acknowledgement. Then he’s looking to Derek and thank god this will be over now!

“I can’t promise this, sir.” Stiles chokes on air and flails so much he almost falls off his seat.

“What the hell, Derek?!”

“Yes, why not?” The level voice of his father makes Stiles slink back into his chair, but he doesn’t take his eyes off of Derek.

“I agree to telling you when Stiles and the humans in our pack are in serious danger. But we’re werewolves. We heal faster, we run faster, we sense danger. It wasn’t my secret to tell in the first place but I couldn’t stand Stiles leaving and ruining his relationship with you. His only concern was your safety. I’m not jeopardizing it. We can handle the danger.”

The silence after this rings in their ears. Stiles doesn’t even know if he should feel embarrassed, angry or both.

“You drive a hard bargain, son. What if I still make Stiles leave?”

“You won’t do it. Sir.”

Stiles is watching this confrontation in horror, wishing for someone to wolf out and start fighting for the last piece of meat. Just to make this stop.

“You sure?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Where are you working?” Stiles blinks rapidly, as if it’ll explain what he’s hearing and the sudden change of subject.

“I… didn’t really have time for work here. But I did some simple jobs in New York. I-”

“You’re going to start visiting the police department.”

Stiles hopes he’s thinking wrong because the thing he’s thinking… is the weirdest thing ever and he’ll need ages to figure out how he feels about it.

“We’re short on people. Always are. You’re going to be my personal assistant for a while until you become a deputy. Deal?”

Derek gives Stiles a confused look, matched on the boy’s face, and slowly nods.

“Yes, sir.”

“That’s it then. And you can call me John.”

The only thing Stiles got from this, as traumatizing as everything was, was: he’s getting a uniform kink. And soon.

***

Stiles doesn’t wait for permission and is the first to rush out to see everybody out the door.

“What the hell was all that?” Stiles resorts to an angry whisper which only makes him look ridiculous, points out Jackson.

“Isaac overheard you talking with your dad that time at the hospital. We all knew you were leaving, except for Derek.” Scott looks to Derek, standing close behind Stiles and the boy turns to see a pinched expression on the man’s face. “We probably should’ve told him sooner…”

“You should’ve.” Derek is so obviously straining not to growl he almost sounds scary.

“No, I mean… Ok, no… but this whole…”

“Are you _really_ at a loss for words?” If it wasn’t coming from Danny Stiles would’ve hit the one saying this.

“I mean I guess it went ok. But you do get that you all are horrible friends and are disowned and have to grovel at my feet begging for forgiveness? Except for you, Lydia. You can grovel only if you feel like it.”

“I’m forwarding my groveling to Derek. He won’t mind.” Stiles colors and takes a step back, bumping into Derek and jumping away from him in a cluster of limbs. Lydia was evil.

“But it’s not bad, right? That he knows now?” Stiles turns his head to Scott and gives him a tight-lipped smile. Of course it isn’t. But that’s just one worry replacing the other.

“No. But when the hell did you have time to team up with Derek behind my back? Next I’ll be the last to know about your secret werewolf wedding with him!” This gets Stiles the desired distraction from serious matters as Scott starts making puking noises and Derek glares at him.

Melissa is out soon and one by one everybody leaves, Derek the only one still standing on the front steps, Stiles’ father tactfully staying inside but no doubt listening in.

“You’re all dicks.” Is what Stiles finds himself saying instead of the swarm of thoughts inside his head. The teen’s looking down at his sneakers, shuffling his feet. “And you look ridiculous.”

“I’ll make sure to put this to discussion on the next pack meeting.”

“Dick.” Stiles finally looks up and Derek has this stupid tiny smile on his face. “I’m the only one allowed to make moronic jokes.”

They kiss for a whole of two seconds, it can’t even really be called a kiss, before there’s a coughing coming from the house. Derek gives him one more kiss, on the cheek, before driving away. Stiles stays outside the whole time before the black camaro is out of sight, breathing the fresh air and feeling weirdly calm, the tension eating at him finally out of his system, making the forever present stiffness leave his shoulders.

When he walks back in, locking the door behind him, he’s met with a look from his father that he doesn’t entirely get.

“I don’t even know what’s worse – you running around with a pack of werewolves, or you dating their alpha.” Stiles smiles at his dad, suppressing a laugh and his father smiles back, the furrow in his brows smoothing. Stiles missed this smile. “You just keep surprising me, kid.”

“I need to keep you at your top game, don’t I?”

Next thing Stiles knows he is wrestled into a noogie and he’s laughing, trying to get free of his father’s grip and this is wasn’t even in the top ten of his good scenarios of how the reveal had to go down, but it’s definitely the best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> accidentally deputy!Derek?  
> There's sex in the epilogue... :)


	7. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one little spoiler in the notes in the end. just because I know not everyone's ok with some things. Nothing big though. It's not even really important tbh.

Stiles and his father had to fly to Virginia again, Derek with them this time, to personally apologize for all the misunderstandings and to withdraw Stiles’ transfer. Derek spotted the werewolves immediately and there were more apologies for trespassing last time. They exchanged emails with the beta that was in charge of talking to them, the alpha of the pack was at work but Derek spent a good five minutes talking to her on the phone; and promised to let them know beforehand if they were going to pass by. The sheriff stared at it in awe and confusion for most of the time, as if they were talking in a different language. The flight back was John asking Derek about territorial disputes and scent marking and stuff alike while Stiles used his dad’s distraction to thread his fingers through Derek’s and hold on to his hand.

The school year started and there was less time to fool around and for sleepless nights on the internet. Stiles’ only shared class with Scott was PE and Scott complained endlessly about them not seeing each other at all. Stiles was feeling bad about it too. But between pack meetings, special meetings including their parents and Chris Argent, Allison didn’t show up most of the time, studying and studying even more, Stiles didn’t get as much as a glimpse of Derek. And considering they were now officially in a relationship, new and improved, with no more misunderstandings and with Stiles’ father in the know, this was getting ridiculous.

Stiles started visiting the police department a lot more often than before. And even if his excuse always was that he wanted to see the both of them and he missed out on all the visits while he and his dad weren’t really on the best of terms, everybody, meaning both the Sheriff and his personal assistant Derek Hale, knew that mostly the visits meant that he could spend time with Derek. Because Derek spent almost every breathing second by his father’s side and this was getting to Stiles. This just wasn’t normal. They were supposed to finally be in the honeymoon phase, whatever that meant. No, they went on dates, if sitting in cafes between stakeouts and Derek sorting papers before running back to the police department, could be called that. And then he’d just follow Derek, watch him stare at reports for a while with a constipated expression and then Stiles would huff and start filling them out in Derek’s place. That was his workload now, in addition to the school work and tolerating his dad and Derek making fun of him and his eating habits. But Derek really just couldn’t get it right, not without help, and after he sulked three times, getting silent and grouchy, all in a period of one evening, Stiles reassured him that his dad was as bad with paperwork, that’s why he was a sheriff, so he could dump it on others and Stiles wasn’t going to miss out seeing Derek in a deputy’s uniform so he was willing to sacrifice his time.

“…if we’re fulfilling some ideas about uniforms, handcuffs and outdoor sex.” Derek just nodded stiffly, his eyes skimming Stiles’ body hungrily, lingering on his lips. But that was it. Nothing more happened. Derek didn’t try to initiate anything and the few times Stiles proposed they go to Derek’s place or to the Stilinski household while his father wasn’t there, Derek would physically remove himself from Stiles and say that he couldn’t come right now. It wasn’t the age and it wasn’t because Derek respected his father too much to do it so it was getting pretty annoying and, to put it bluntly, Stiles was starting to get worried that Derek didn’t want him any more, or that he started thinking that he wants to break up to save Stiles from ruining his life by being with him. Or some other self-deprecating shit Stiles didn’t want to hear. Around the fourth rejection, probably sensing all of Stiles’ insecurities and doubts, Derek finally shared the thoughts that stopped him.

“I want to make it right this time.” As Stiles’ blank stare didn’t go anywhere he had to explain: “You didn’t have it the first time around and it’s my fault. I want to do everything right – take you out on dates, buy you gifts…”

“I reject sex _one time_! One time! And this is my curse! I _want_ to have sex, Derek!”

He probably shouldn’t have shouted, because everybody in the tiny family restaurant was looking at them now. Thank god it wasn’t a busy hour with just a couple of the usual patrons to witness Stiles’ embarrassment. They didn’t stay there for long after this, paying the bill and dreading the moment Stiles’ dad would hear about it. Because there was no doubt that he will.

Derek drove him all the way to Scott’s and left to go sort through reports Stiles’ dad was too lazy to even move from the pile on his desk.

“You know, it’s not even funny! He used to not even care and we’d do it everywhere, any time. But now he thinks I’m this delicate flower and I’ll break from a dick in my ass. I cursed myself by denying him sex that time I’m telling you.”

Stiles stop his pacing and turns to look at Scott, hands tight against his ears, headphones on, blaring some shitty music Scott downloaded after yet another break up with Allison.

“I know you can still hear everything. I need to talk to someone, Scott!”

“I don’t want to hear _that_!” Scott turns to him, yanking one earbud out, a grimace on his face.

“Dude, no fair! I listened all about Allison and _everything_ that went on! All the time! I was traumat-” Stiles trails off as Scott’s expression falls and he visibly deflates. “Sorry. No talking about you-know-who. But this was supposed to be about me anyway.”

Stiles slides down to sit on the floor beside Scott, giving him a one-armed hug.

“Do you know if werewolves mate for life?”

Stiles tries to look at Scott’s expression without appearing to be too invasive, managing a ridiculous eye-twitch instead and getting a hand shoving his face away. He did his research and Peter sent him stuff about it too…

“I don’t think you’ll like what you hear.”

“Do they?”

“No… It’s like- normal people.” Scott’s shoulders slump even more and he hangs his head.

“I don’t want to not love her any more.”

“Well…”

“I really want to love her but I’m tired and I don’t like it. I don’t want to give up but…”

After their talk takes a turn and they spend a while talking about Scott and Allison instead of Stiles not getting any, they’re joined by Isaac and his only presence lightens Scott up. Stiles thinks he wants to look strong and confident in front of the curly-haired boy, he also thinks Isaac is more than a little bit in love and if Scott ever tells him about Allison he might take it as a green light. And judging by the way Isaac drifted closer and closer to Scott Stiles might be seeing it all happening real soon. He knows Scott will be able to reject him without hurting his feelings, Scott is magical like that, but Stiles still hopes Isaac will spare himself the embarrassment and while Scott will play it cool in front of Isaac, Stiles will be subjected to Scott panicking about it, probably hiding out in Stiles’ room for days. So following Isaac’s lead and trying to deal with his problems before that, Stiles calls Derek.

It’s late in the evening and his father is visiting Deputy Fishings, so Derek has to be at home by now. The phone rings for a while but finally Derek picks up.

“Sorry, I just came back from the shower. What is it?”

Stiles grins and settles down more comfortably on the bed, hand reaching inside his boxers.

“So I take it you’re only wearing a towel? Or…”

There’s a muffled noise on the other end and then Derek’s just too silent so Stiles has to check. Well that’s not how he pictured it going at all. This time Derek picks up after the first ring.

“Did you just hang up on me when I was trying to have phone sex with you?! Really?! How did you even understand so fast?”

“Stiles, I can hear everything you do! And we’re not having phone sex.”

“Wow, really? I knew werewolf hearing was good but really?” Stiles starts moving his hand up and down his shaft, getting himself hard. “You can hear _everything_? What am I doing now?”

“We’re not doing it, Stiles. I’m hanging up.”

“Alright, alright! Don’t hang up. Killjoy.” Stiles takes his hand out of his boxers and moves to shimmy out of them, reaching for the lube and uncapping it. “But you got me interested now. Will you be able to tell if my hand is on my cock or if I’m fingering myself?”

As Stiles pours lube over his fingers, phone secure between his cheek and shoulder, he hears Derek make a gurgling sound and chuckles.

“Or if it were my fingers or if I was using something else to put it inside me?” Stiles gives his member a stroke and pulls at his ballsack lightly before reaching his entrance, spreading his legs and circling it with a slick finger.

“Stiles, I’m hanging up now.” Derek’s voice is strained and this gives Stiles all the answers he needs. He pushes one digit in, wincing a little at the first tingling pain of the intrusion.

“You could.” The boy tries to get himself loose faster, tries to work himself open as soon as he can without unnecessary pain. “Because you know you won’t be able to do it once you know that I’m laying spread out on my bed, legs open, my dick dripping already just from two fingers inside of me.”

There’s a wrecked “Stiles” on the other end and it makes the boy gasp in return.

“You’re hard too, right? Because I don’t have werewolf hearing to check and this would be kinda disappointing if you weren’t.”

Derek answers with a breathy “Fuck, Stiles,” and Stiles can’t help the impish grin from playing on his lips.

“I haven’t done this in a while, you know?” it’s three fingers now and Stiles is panting into the phone, mewling at the feeling and whimpering when Derek growls. Stiles isn’t very sure what he’s supposed to say and if he even sounds sexy enough to pull off phone sex but Derek’s ragged breath makes him hope that he’s doing at least something right. “I missed the feeling of your cock inside me. ”

Derek goes very silent after this and Stiles wonders if that was too much but then Derek’s voice is back:

“I missed being inside you. You feel so good when you clench around me, begging for more.” Stiles’ breath catches and he freezes, listening to Derek, curling his fingers inside and biting his lip to stifle a whimper. “Don’t be quiet, I want to hear you. What are you doing?”

Stiles swears and starts moving his hand again, fingers hitting that spot inside that makes his eyes roll.

“I’m- I’m fingering myself, three fingers now, fuck, Derek-”

“Good. Is your other hand free? I want you to put it on your cock and stroke slowly, ease up, I can hear you. Slower.” Stiles whimpers but slows down both his hands, the sensation washing over him in waves, along with Derek’s deep voice in his ear.

“Yes, like that. Tell me, how do you want me to take you?” Stiles only manages a weak sob in return, hips lifting from the bed in aborted thrusts, so Derek continues instead. “I want to take you from behind, with you in my lap, so I could watch you stroke yourself while I was thrusting into you, so I could feel when your trembling muscles would give out when you’d come and hold you, making you move with me until you’re spent and clutch at my hands to keep some semblance of control over me wrecking you completely.”

Stiles can’t go slow, can’t force himself any more, he’s stroking his dick fast and hard, the wrist of his other hand beginning to ache from the uncomfortable angle of his thrusts.

“And before I come inside you, I’d bite you on the neck, leaving you marked for days, so everyone would know you’re mine.”

That’s the final straw and Stiles blacks out for a second, coming in white stripes across his chest, phone falling to the side as he eases down from the orgasm. Stiles fumbles to reach the phone, stopping mid track and wiping his hands on the sheets, of course he drops the phone and has to fish for it under the bed, only dirtying the sheets further, finally seizing it with a sock and some dust sticking to his hand.

“Uh… sorry, I kind of…”

“Yeah, I heard.” Derek chuckles on the other end and Stiles feels himself blush. What was the protocol for phone-sex anyway? Was he supposed to hang up now? Or did it require them to mention how nice the weather was? “Stop thinking, Stiles.”

Stiles pulls away from the phone to stare at it accusingly for a second before returning it to his ear.

“Um. Did you get to… come too?” Derek’s laughing again but it’s not a mean laugh, or at least Stiles hopes it isn’t.

“Don’t worry about that.” Queue: panic. Stiles starts apologizing and talking about making up for the failed sex, scolding Derek for not saying anything until Derek shushes him and reassures him that he had as much pleasure as Stiles did. Stiles squints at the comment.

“Would’ve been even better with some actual contact, you know?”

“Alright.”

“Not that I don’t appreciate your eff… what?”

“Alright, Stiles. I don’t think I can hold back any longer anyway.”

Stiles lets out a shout of victory and fist-pumps the air.

“I’m coming over!” He’s already getting up, opening the wardrobe to quickly find something to wear.

“Stiles, let’s just… I thought that-”

“We’re _not_ waiting any longer! I’m coming over. I’m out the door as soon as I can find some pants to put on.”

Stiles likes to think Derek was smiling when he said his goodbyes and that he’ll be waiting.

The teen worries that he kind of had a mind-blowing orgasm and might not get it up as soon as he’d like, but then he thinks about Derek, Derek right there, with his hot skin and amazing stubble and his dick already twitches in interest so no problems on that front. It was good to be young.

Stiles leaves his dad a note that he’ll be over at Scott’s today and sends Scott a text so he’d back him up. He checks his phone at a stop at a traffic light, his knee jerking in a nervous habit. There are three texts, all from Scott.

**ew. r u goin’ to have sex with derek?**

**wait don’t tell me I don’t want to know!!!!!!**

**ew!**

Stiles sends Scott a smiley face and receives a crying smiley in return. But then the light turns green and he has more pressing matters than traumatizing Scott.

Derek is there, waiting for him with the door open when Stiles runs all the way up the stairs, wearing boxers and a see-through shirt. He doesn’t waste time, pressing Stiles against the door to close it, his mouth on Stiles’, his thigh finding its way between Stiles’ and his hands framing the boy’s face as he kisses him like a man starved. Stiles’ own hands fly up to trace up Derek’s arms, rubbing his biceps, his whole body trying to press into Derek’s, closer.

The moment Derek’s lips move lower, trailing kisses and nips along his jaw and down Stiles’ neck, Stiles has his own mouth free and he really can’t help talking.

“You’re wearing clothes.” Sounded right in his head but he thinks Derek’s killing his brain cells with his mouth and his body rocking into Stiles’.

“As are you.” Derek takes a moment to answer, sinking his teeth into Stiles’ collar bone, ruining his shirt by pulling it away but Stiles can’t find it in himself to complain.

“We both should get to fixing this.” Stiles’ hands already pulling Derek’s thin shirt up over his back, hands stroking the smooth skin he wasn’t able to touch for so long. Derek moves away from him to get rid of the shirt and throw it aside, instantly crowding Stiles against the door once more, hands tantalizing on the strip of skin above Stiles’ jeans, revealed by the rucked up t-shirt. But because his mouth is occupied with Stiles’ neck and leaving as much hickeys as possible, it seems, Stiles tries to continue the thought, even if he’s not sure there was a thought apart from getting undressed, now.

“Because- there are things we need to get to doing. Soon.” Stiles throws his head back, giving a hard thrust onto Derek’s thigh and moaning wantonly.

“I want you to fuck me.”

At first Stiles thinks he heard wrong, but then he freezes up entirely and Derek immediately tenses against him.

“Forget it.” And Derek’s back to kissing him, but Stiles has to physically push him away and in no reality did he imagine this happening.

“No, no, no. Wait, you would let me? Or… did I get it wrong? Because I have to admit my mind is in a bit of a sex-fog. That totally is a medical condition, it’s very serious: your brain stops functioning once you get in contact with…” great, now he’s rambling. Stiles hates his brain and his reflexes.

“Yes.” Stiles stares with his mouth hanging open (great job on the seduction technics, Stiles) and sees Derek slowly coloring until the tips of his ears are bright red. Stiles’ dick goes from half-hard to straining against his jeans uncomfortably.

“You want me to-”

“Yes, Stiles.”

Stiles manages an “OH MY GOD!” before dragging Derek back into the kiss by the back of his neck. He’s really just testing his boundaries by trying to manhandle Derek and switching their positions against the door, but Derek goes willingly, letting Stiles press him against the door and making a wrecked sound in the back of his throat.

The situation in the teen’s jeans was getting really uncomfortable so Stiles blindly reached down to unzip them, met with Derek’s hands getting there first, unbuttoning them and snaking a hand beneath the waistband, making Stiles spasm from the touch alone.

He makes himself move away to get rid of his own clothes, Derek holding him by the waist with one hand, dragging him closer and his other in a firm grip on Stiles’ dick, giving it deliberate strokes. Stiles lets himself get dragged in for another kiss, his dick, peaking from the jeans he didn’t even get to pull down, rubbing against Derek’s boxer-clad hard on, Derek ducking to cover his neck with kisses once they broke apart (seriously, the neck thing was hot but Stiles couldn’t help but wonder if it was a Derek thing or a werewolf thing). Stiles squeezed Derek’s ass through the fabric of his boxers, rewarded with a grind and a harsh intake of breath from Derek.

“We need to- bed.” Stiles felt Derk nodding more than seeing it and the next thing he knew Derek was lifting him in the air and carrying him all the way to the bed, Stiles’ legs automatically wrapping around Derek’s waist.

They fall onto the bed, Stiles’ legs wrapped tightly around Derek’s waist, hands holding on to his neck. Derek crawled off of him, taking of the boxers while Stiles shimmied out of his remaining clothings and then Derek was crawling right back, up his body, stopping to leave a kiss on his knee, the inside of his thigh, nuzzling his abdomen and practically rubbing his head like a cat on Stiles’ sternum before settling on top of the teen and kissing him senseless, framing his face with his arms, propped on his elbows.

Stiles’ hands stroke all the skin he can get to, canting his hips to get friction between their dicks but he’s hesitant to do more. He can’t even grope Derek’s ass and this is getting ridiculous. He’s done it before, granted it was when Derek was fucking into him and Stiles wasn’t quite in control of what he was doing, but it _was_ different. Derek wanted him to… He actually wanted him to do it, probably, and Stiles was getting cold feet.

Derek nuzzled him once before sitting up on Stiles’ thighs, back arched gracefully, making him look even more unreal and like from a porn fantasy.

“It’s fine if you don’t want to.” He has the gall to smile too while saying this and Stiles just listens to his body, switching off the last shreds of brain activity and sitting up after Derek, turning them around and making Derek fall back onto the bed on his back, Stiles slotting neatly between his legs that Derek moves even further apart for him.

“I want you. So so much.” Stiles is back to kissing the man lying beneath him, letting his hands roam down Derek’s sculptured body, caressing and exploring all over again. Stiles strokes up and down Derek’s thighs and when he wants to move away he feels the death grip Derek has on him. Stiles smiles down at Derek and gives him a light kiss before easing away and down, kissing Derek’s impressive chest and taking his time to lick and suck on his nipples, Derek’s fingers tangling in his hair and Derek arching towards his touch. Stiles is looming over Derek in half a crouch, hand on the werewolf’s dick, while his mouth slowly moved south.

The moment Stiles wanted to stand up to get the lube a bottle was shoved into his hand by Derek. Stiles looked up from where he was busy sucking bruises that healed immediately into Derek’s abdomen, grinning like a madman and Derek returned the smile, the tension still there but fading away slowly. This Derek was so not the Derek that Stiles was having phone sex with about half an hour ago. Stiles wasn’t really sure what changed, but maybe…

“Am I the one who’ll pop your cherry?” Derek isn’t even a tiny bit tense any longer, he is just looking at Stiles like he’s a moron and ok, yeah, that was a stupid thought. Of course Derek had lots of mind-blowing sex, with the way that he looks he would be able to score left and right and there’d be people groveling at his feet too, lines waiting for a chance to get in bed with him…

“-Stiles.” Stiles is jerked from his thoughts by Derek’s voice and a hand carding through his hair.

“I don’t want to hear about any of it.” Derek doesn’t even question what Stiles means, he just rolls his eyes and sits up, making Stiles lift up with him on reflex.

“I want _you_ to do it. I’m with you right now, Stiles…” Derek trails off, wanting to say something more but not doing so.

“…aaand you’ll be with me the other time. And all the other times?” that’s too much too soon. Probably. Stiles doesn’t know, he’s not good with relationships. Weres don’t mate for life and there’s nothing to say they won’t break up with Derek in the future but Stiles prefers to be optimistic about things, even if it doesn’t work like that all the time. But Derek smiles at him and maybe Derek decided to look at this from Stiles’ view.

“Exactly that.” He smiles and pulls Stiles in for a kiss that turns filthy soon, all tongues and teeth, no finesse, just heat and want. Stiles blindly uncaps the lube spilling some on the sheets while getting it on his fingers. Derek lets him go and lays back on the mattress, his legs open, dick flushed red and leaking, hard against his stomach and Stiles ducks down to give it a kiss. It’s familiar grounds so Stiles settles in the V of Derek’s legs and gives his dick a few licks before guiding it into his mouth. Stiles pumps Derek with the lube-slick hand, sucking around his head, swirling his tongue and licking into the slit, tasting the precome on his tongue.

Stiles doesn’t stop what he’s doing with his mouth, bobbing his head in precise movements he knows Derek loves, reveling in the sounds Derek makes beneath him; when he gathers up the courage to trail down with his fingers. There’s a sharp gasp from above when his finger presses lightly against Derek’s hole and he circles the entrance. This was weird, kind of, a bit. A lot? Stiles wasn’t sure. It was hot. And awesome. But also put a lot of pressure on him. Yeah, he knew the technical side and he stretched himself open and had Derek do it for him, but he was _Stiles_. He wouldn’t put it past himself to screw _this_. But there was no other way but to try so Stiles did just that, pushing in with one finger, going in almost without resistance.

Alright, maybe even Stiles couldn’t screw this up. He decides this after an especially delicious whimper (even if Derek would deny it later. Whatever, after a manly whimper), when he was fucking Derek with two fingers, abandoning his cock and just looking in awe as Derek thrusted his hips into the movement, watching how his fingers disappeared inside Derek, lifting his eyes from time to time to watch the were’s flushed face, mouth open in a permanent O in pleasure.

Stiles would be ok with just making Derek come like this, staring at him in dazed awe, transfixed by the sight, but then Derek makes a sound between a growl and a whine, ordering “Come on,” and Stiles is fumbling to get more comfortable between Derek’s legs, still not getting how Derek lets himself be so easily manhandled and pushed around, by Stiles of all people.

They don’t use condoms, never did. Werewolves don’t carry diseases and Stiles’ only experience went back to playing spin the bottle in middle school that one time. So Stiles slicks himself up, pouring some more lube from the bottle, lying beside him on the bed, moaning at the sensation. Fuck, he was so concentrated he didn’t even realize how worked up he got. Derek urges him with a kick to the side and Stiles catches the leg that kicked him and moves it to his shoulder, standing on his knees before Derek, lifting him up from the mattress and aligning himself. He can’t really work at this angle without holding Derek’s hips and Derek probably gets it too, that’s why the pillow from beneath his head is shoved at Stiles so Stiles can use it to get a better angle.

Derek tries to relax, but it’s pretty obvious by the way he clenches around Stiles and bites his bottom lip that he needs to take it slower. Stiles is half way in when he stops and turns his head to place a kiss to Derek’s knee, his right hand moving to Derek’s dick and giving it a few firm strokes. He doesn’t stop stroking when he feels Derek relaxing and starts pushing in until he’s all the way in, Derek throwing his head back and taking big gulps of air.

“You ok there?” earns Stiles a patented Derek Hale glare and the teen can’t help but smile back at the frown that slowly transforms into a tender smile.

“Move.” Stiles’ first instinct is to get away, but his brain catches up faster and yeah, Derek definitely didn’t want him to pull out and get away, if his silent curse when Stiles pulled almost all way out and then moved back in one slick motion, was any indication. Derek’s eyes wouldn’t leave his as the younger man set up a rhythm, taking his time, trusting in deliberate strokes, holding onto Derek’s knee on his shoulder, his other hand flat on Derek’s thigh, the werewolf opening up for him.

It’s not long though before Stiles looses the restraint he had, starts thrusting in earnest, making Derek tremble and arch into his touch, loosing grip of his knee midway and leaning in closer to capture Derek’s lips in a miscoordinated messy kiss, Derek trying to answer, but every new thrust making him moan and pant hard into Stiles’ mouth.

When Derek tells him that he’s close, tells Stiles to touch him, Stiles is only happy to follow the order, so close to release himself. He wraps a fist around Derek’s leaking cock and starts pumping in rhythm with his thrusts, loosing control over the pace soon as it becomes erratic and he has a fleeting thought that he should pull out before he’s coming so hard he sees white.

His hips still make half-hearted motions, fucking into Derek out of reflex as Derek’s hand joins his on his cock, wrapping around it. It takes two strokes for Derek to come too, falling back onto the bed, spent, dragging Stiles on top of him.

They lay in silence for a while, the air cooling their sweat-slick skin, Derek’s hands stroking up and down Stiles’ spine absent-mindedly as Stiles drew patterns into Derek’s shoulder. Stiles had to gather all of his willpower to get off Derek and flop back beside him, still crawling half on top of the man, perching on his chest with his hands crossed and kissing Derek’s chin and jawline lazily.

“ _That_ was-”

“Say ‘awesome’ and I’ll end you.”

Stiles lifts his head up and looks at Derek with a cocky smile on his face.

“But who’s going to provide the mind-blowing sex then? You know you’re addicted to me, wolf-boy, don’t even try to deny it.”

There’s a spark in Derek’s eyes Stiles is worried about and then Derek’s eyes turn alpha-red and he pounces with a growl, reversing their positions and pinning Stiles to the bed, giving him a toothy smile to show off his sharp teeth and then moving to the boy’s neck, clamping them around it. Stiles lets out a squeak before he feels that the teeth became blunt, human.

“Ass.”

Derek moves up from his neck after biting it one more time, definitely leaving marks, and smiles down at the boy, kissing him on the mouth in a sweet gentle kiss.

“We should go shower.” With this he gets up, not bothering to give Stiles a hand, but as he walks away from the bed, butt-naked, Stiles absolutely does not mind the view.

Stiles is smiling to himself and doesn’t even realize the words are out of his mouth until they’re already said.

“I love you.”

Derek freezes in place and Stiles freezes himself. Well, Derek said it once, and then basically told his father that he was in love with Stiles. Stiles was allowed to say it too, right?

Derek then turns around and returns to him, leaning to Stiles, who’s sitting on the bed, legs on the floor, and kisses him until Stiles forgets how to breathe. They break apart flushed and breathless and Derek takes him by the hand this time, leading him into the shower. They’re standing under the stream of water, Derek hugging Stiles from the back in pretense to soaping him up while all he did so far was pinch the teen’s nipples until Stiles’ dick started getting interested and moved his foamy soapy hands up and down Stiles’ torso; when Derek leans even closer, kissing behind Stiles’ ear and tells him “I love you too.”

***

In the end his father knows exactly where Stiles spent the night without even talking to Scott; Derek starts getting invited to dinners without the pack present and without paperwork as an excuse; Scott hides that he started going out with Isaac and Stiles finds out only because Derek gets tired of him whining and tells him he could smell them on each other for ages now; and even with the SATs coming up and with all the new hard life choices Stiles will have to make, he’s kind of never been so happy in his life. Oh, and the sex is AWESOME!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bottom!Derek
> 
> also, phew.


End file.
